


Doing Time.

by steeleye



Series: It's Grim Up North. [11]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Porridge - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Friendship, Humour, Mystery, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 80,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8184941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steeleye/pseuds/steeleye
Summary: 'A Grim Up North' story, xover with the 70's BBC sitcom ‘Porridge’; "Buffy Anne Summers, you have been found guilty of the charges brought by this court and it is now my duty to pass sentence. You are a habitual criminal, who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard and presumably accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner. We therefore feel constrained to commit you to the maximum term allowed for these offences...you will go to prison for five years…take her down”.





	1. Chapter 1

Doing Time.

By Steeleye.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the classic BBC TV comedy, ‘Porridge’. I write these stories for fun not profit. ‘Porridge’ was written by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais. Buffy was thought up by the usual suspects. Any canon/scripted words you might find in this story weren’t originally written by me either. 

**Crossover:** BtVS with the Film/TV series, ‘Porridge’.

 **Spelling, Punctuation, and Grammar;** Written in glorious UK-English (the original and best) which is different to US-English.

 **Timeline:** Post BtVS Season 7 (no comics) part of the ‘Grim up North’ series of stories.

 **Words:** Twenty-five chapters of 3000+ words

 **Warnings:** As usual I’m erring on the side of safety so FR15 for most chapters, FR18 sections (if any) will be clearly marked as such.

 **Summary:** 'A Grim Up North' story, xover with the 70's BBC sitcom ‘Porridge’; "Buffy Anne Summers, you have been found guilty of the charges brought by this court and it is now my duty to pass sentence. You are a habitual criminal, who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard and presumably accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner. We therefore feel constrained to commit you to the maximum term allowed for these offences...you will go to prison for five years…take her down”.

0=0=0=0

**Author’s notes appear at the end of this chapter.**

0=0=0=0

**Middlesbrough Crown Court, early March, 2005.**

Standing in the dock at Middlesbrough Crown Court, Buffy smiled hopefully up at her family and friends in the public gallery, her case had not been going well. Somehow the court had got the idea that she was some sort of career criminal who’d spent her entire life breaking into other people’s homes. Of course it hadn’t helped her case that she couldn’t tell the police or the court the real reason she’d been in someone else’s house in the middle of the night. It wasn’t really her fault she’d gone to the wrong address either; the note about the vampire nest had been scribbled on a piece of paper and left on her desk at Slayer Central. No one could remember who’d put it there or was willing to admit to writing it. It was all something of a mystery and one that Giles was still looking into, however, this hadn’t helped Buffy’s claim that the only thing she was guilty of was misreading an address.

Of course in the days of the old Council of Watchers the case would never have come to court, they’d have used their influence to get her out of jail and any charges against her would’ve been dropped. But, ‘The First’ had put pay to all that by blowing up the Watcher’s headquarters in London; the new ‘Slayer’s Organisation’ (so-called because no one could think up a better name for it) didn’t have a tenth of the influence the old council had once wielded.

Looking away from her friends, Buffy saw that the jury were filing back into court, she didn’t know whether to be worried or hopeful; they’d only been out for about thirty minutes. Really only just long enough to go to the restroom and then decide if she was innocent or guilty over a quick cup of tea. Once again Buffy glanced up at the public gallery to see Dawn wave and smile encouragingly at her.

“Has the jury reached its verdict?” asked the be-gowned clerk of the court.

“We have m’lud,” the forewoman stood up, addressing the judge as she handed the clerk of the court a note.

The clerk took the note to the judge who opened and read it to himself. Buffy tried to read the expression on the judge’s face but she couldn’t see anything there one way or the other.

“The defendant will rise,” ordered the judge; Buffy stood up.

The judge looked back at the jury.

“How do you find the defendant?” The judge asked.

“Guilty, m’lud.” Replied the forewoman.

“NO!” Buffy cried in panic, “I’m innocent I tell you! It must’ve been a different Buffy Summers!”

There was uproar in court as the judge banged his gavel; after all how could there possibly be two women called ‘Buffy Summers’?

“Another outburst like that and I’ll have the court cleared,” the judge’s voice cut through the cries of despair that rose from the gallery and the defendant’s box, “The prisoner will remain standing while the court passes sentence.”

Hanging on to the edge of the dock for support, Buffy tried to control her racing heart as her friends tried to calm Dawn in the gallery.

"Buffy Anne Summers,” began the judge looking at her over the top of his half moon spectacles, “you have been found guilty of the charges brought by this court,” the judge paused for a moment, “and it is now my duty to pass sentence. You are a habitual criminal, who accepts arrest as an occupational hazard and presumably accepts imprisonment in the same casual manner. We therefore feel constrained to commit you to the maximum term allowed for these offences...you will go to prison for five years…take her down.”

Numb to the core Buffy was only vaguely aware of the two prison officers taking her by the arms and leading her down to the cells. As she walked in a daze down the stairs, Buffy heard Dawn shouting from the gallery above and the judge banging his gavel for order in the court room

“Don’t worry Buffy, we’ll get you...” Dawn’s voice was cut off by the sound of a heavy door being slammed shut behind her.

0=0=0=0

The security van, containing Buffy and one other woman, drove through the gates of Slade Women’s Prison; Buffy shivered as she heard the big gates slam shut behind the van. It had only taken a couple of hours to drive up to the wilds of Cumbria where the prison was situated. Although Slade prison was in the Lake District and on the wrong side of the Pennines it wasn’t actually that far from Saltburn-by-the-Sea were Buffy lived. This would mean that her friends and Dawn wouldn’t have too much difficulty coming to see her for her monthly visits.

The van jerked to a halt and Buffy’s sensitive hearing caught the sound of the doors at the back of the van being unlocked. The van shifted slightly as whoever it was with the keys stepped aboard and worked their way along the inside of the van unlocking the tiny cells occupied by each prisoner. The door to Buffy’s claustrophobic, little cubicle was the second to be opened and she found herself looking up into the hard, unsympathetic eyes of a large woman dressed in the uniform of a prison officer.

Stepping out into the grey, damp, daylight, Buffy became aware of tall, grim, looking prison walls and equally grim looking prison blocks. Her heart sank even further when she noticed that every window had bars on them. Obviously, Slade Women’s Prison was one of those old, bleak, Victorian prisons and not one of the newer more open prisons where, if it wasn’t for the locked doors and narrow windows, you’d hardly notice you were in jail. No, this was a prison with a capital ‘P’, and looked quite capable of crushing the spirit of even the most determined prisoner. Pushed into line behind the other new arrival, Buffy was marched across a courtyard and into one of the big, forbidding, grey prison blocks. Once inside they were led down long, featureless corridors that smelt of cabbage and disinfectant; finally they were herded into a large room with benches along the walls; here they stood in the centre of the room waiting for somebody to come and tell them what was going to happen next.

0=0=0=0

“Beautiful day!” enthused the Scottish prison office standing behind Buffy, “Beautiful day,” the officer repeated, “for the time of year…beautiful day.”

“Oh lovely,” replied the woman standing next to Buffy; a bottle blonde in her late thirties or early forties, “maybe we can all go out later for a bike ride or something?”

Buffy tried not to smirk at her fellow prisoner’s deadpan delivery.

“You know what they say about New Years Day?” Officer Mackay ignored the other prisoner and walked slowly into Buffy’s field of vision.

Senior Prison Officer Helen Mackay, was a sharp faced woman who kept her dark hair in a severe bun on the back of her head, she was several inches taller than Buffy and projected an air of well scrubbed and shiny efficiency. Her uniform blouse had razor sharp creases down the sleeves. The chain that carried the big bunch of keys hooked to the belt of her skirt, sparkled in the dim electric light of the room; her shoes were so highly polished that you could use them for mirrors.

“They say,” continued Mackay, “that what you do on that day you’ll do all year round,” the woman gloated, seemingly taking pleasure from the prisoner’s misery, “that’s certainly going to be true for you two ladies.”

“You lassie,” Mackay came to stand in front of Buffy, “Summers, right?” Buffy nodded, “Your first time inside isn’t it?” Mackay looked Buffy up and down as if inspecting her very soul and finding it wanting, “You must be wondering what an average day in prison’s like?” Mackay turned rapidly to confront the other prisoner, “Tell her Fletcher.”

“It’s exactly like the day before Miss,” Fletcher replied wearily.

“The voice of experience,” Mackay smiled nastily, she was now standing in front of Fletcher giving her the same sort of look she’d given Buffy. “Now, tell Summers how the average day begins.”

“Starting at seven AM,” Fletcher began, “you will be woken by a deafening and persistent bell, then all the screws come round…” Fletcher paused to let Mackay say something almost as if she’d been expecting an interruption.

“I beg your pardon?” Mackay glared at Fletcher.

“…sorry,” Fletcher continued contritely, “…all the prison officers come around offering such helpful advice as ‘wakey-wakey’ and ‘move you ‘orrible creatures’. To which we happily reply with remarks such as, ‘goodness gracious is that the time?’ and ‘good morning Miss and who’s been doing your old man while you’ve been on night duty?’.”

“Very comical, Fletcher,” snapped Mackay before she continued with the description of the day herself, “Eight o’clock, slop out. Eight-ten, breakfast. Eight-thirty, return to cell; nine o’clock…carry on Fletcher.”

“Nine o’clock slop out again,” as ordered, Fletcher continued with her description, “followed by work until eleven fifteen when we exercise…”

“Walking in pairs,” Mackay explained what ‘exercise’ consisted of, “five or six yards between each pair, no talking to the pair in front or behind and then we have the highlight of the day. What’s the highlight of the day Fletcher?”

“Dinner, Miss,” Fletcher replied.

“Which is?” queried Mackay.

“Nourishing Miss,” Fletcher announced brightly before adding, “can’t wait Miss!”

“Twelve o’clock, midday lock up,” Mackay went on. “Thirteen-hundred, slop out followed by work until sixteen-hundred, then tea and evening association. Seven-fifteen, slop out followed by super and finally at eight o’clock it’s lock-up and lights out, any questions?” Mackay demanded.

“Any point in asking any?” Buffy asked.

“None what-so-ever,” Mackay informed her with a smile.

0=0=0=0

After completing her little lecture, Mackay left the room leaving Buffy and Fletcher in the care of Miss Barrowclough, a tall thin woman with a sad face who wore a white jacket over her uniform. Placing two cardboard boxes on a handy table she picked up a clipboard and called Fletcher forward. Listening closely, Buffy heard Barrowclough take Fletcher’s details, next she then told her to strip and put her belongings into one of the boxes.

Walking over to a screened off booth, Fletcher disappeared inside, only to come out moments later dressed in a thin cotton robe and carrying her clothes in her arms. Walking back over to Barrowclough she dumped her clothes into one of the boxes and signed Barrowclough’s clipboard. Next it was Buffy’s turn; she gave the prison officer her home address, date of birth and next of kin before retreating to the booth. As she removed her clothes it suddenly hit her that all this was real and not some sort of living nightmare; she really was in prison. Slipping on the robe that’d been hanging in the booth waiting for her, Buffy picked up her clothes went outside and placed them into the box that Barrowclough held out to her, she signed the clipboard and waited for someone to tell her what to do next.

What happened next was a tepid shower using really harsh medicated soap followed by the indignity of a body cavity search. After this they were each given a set of prison underwear; terrible off-white, cotton ‘granny knickers’ and a shapeless cotton bra in the same colour. After they’d put these on and having had their robes taken away from them they were led into the medical examination room. Here they sat, still a little damp and shivering slightly as they waited for the Medical Officer to turn up.

“If you weren’t sick before,” Fletcher said out of the corner of her mouth, “you soon will be in this place; ‘ere y’know if you can convince the MO (Medical Officer) you’ve got something wrong with your feet you can keep your own shoes. Otherwise you’ll be stuck with prison shoes an’ they’ll really screw up y’feet.”

“Thanks,” Buffy whispered back, “I’ll remember that.”

Not needing to remember this information for long, Buffy looked up as a door opened and a woman in a white doctor’s coat came into the room. The MO moved around the room as she complained to herself about the governor’s demands on her time and how the governor seemed to think she was actually a vet. Finally picking up a clipboard she looked at the two names on the list and then at the two women sitting on the bench under the window.

“Summers,” the doctor called Buffy over. “I’m going to give you a stringent medical examination, it’s important that we get an accurate medical history from you, understand?”

Nodding her head in understanding Buffy had to lift her left arm so the doctor could study her armpit closely.

“Ever had crabs?” the doctor wanted to know.

“No,” Buffy shook her head adding, “I don’t eat seafood.”

“Lice?” the doctor gave her a tied look as she crossed in front of her and lifted up Buffy’s right arm and started to study her other armpit. “STD’s?”

“No,” Buffy replied slightly puzzled by why the doctor would ask about sexually transmitted diseases when looking at her armpit; the doctor took out a little torch and shone it in Buffy’s ear.

“Are you,” sighed the doctor, “or do you have reason to suspect that you might be pregnant?”

“No,” Buffy replied succinctly.

“Suffer from any illness?” the doctor asked after making a note on her clipboard.

Frowning slightly, Buffy remembered what the woman, Fletcher, had told her, tell them you had bad feet and they’d let you wear your own shoes.

“Bad feet,” Buffy announced brightly.

“Suffer from any illness?” the doctor repeated with a frown.

“Bad feet!” Buffy reiterated, this time more forcefully. 

“Have you paid a recent visit to a doctor or hospital?” the doctor wanted to know.

“Only with my bad feet!” Buffy was starting to get into the swing of things now, maybe this was some sort of test.

“Are you now or have you at any time been a practising lesbian?” the doctor obviously didn’t believe Buffy’s tale of poor foot health; however Buffy wasn’t so easily shaken in her determination to retain ownership of her footwear. 

“What, with these feet?” Buffy sighed sadly, “Who'd have me?”

“Fill that jar,” the MO gestured to a line of specimen jars on a table about six feet away.

“What? From here?” Buffy might be the slayer but that was asking too much even of her.

0=0=0=0

After the medical, which hadn’t been nearly as stringent as the doctor had led Buffy to believe, Fletcher and herself were taken along another corridor to a store room where they were issued their prison uniforms. Buffy received two, long sleeved light grey dresses, half a dozen pairs of white ankle socks, a pair of black canvas shoes and extra underwear including t-shirts. Thinking that the clothing issue was quite generous all things considered, Buffy’s heart sank when she realised that these clothes would probably have to last her the full five years of her sentence.

Next she was issued with, soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, hair brush; the list went on and on until Buffy started to think that even with super-strength she might not be able to carry everything. By the time she’d finished in the store, Fletcher had already been taken away to her cell for the night. Eventually a prison officer came for her and led her away to a little cell where she was to spend her first night in prison, alone. Tomorrow she’d be assigned to her permanent cell and given her work assignment.

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

Sitting around the table in the main conference room at Slayer Central, Giles, Willow, Xander, Faith, Kennedy and most importantly Dawn were all looking particularly glum (actually Kennedy wasn’t feeling in the slightest bit ‘glum’ but she tried to look it for Willow’s sake). They’d had their best friend (once again Kennedy would like it known that Buffy wasn’t _her_ best friend) and leader (again Kennedy was a little ‘iffy’ on the whole _leader_ thing) taken away from them and although no one would admit it out loud they all felt a little lost ( _so_ not Kennedy, she knew exactly where she was) with Buffy missing from the group. This was particularly true of Dawn; although she’d had her differences with her sister over the last year, she still loved her and was already missing her dreadfully.

“So,” Dawn began, trying to keep her voice sounding hopeful, “what are we going to do?”

“We could break her out,” Kennedy suggested; every head in the room turned towards her. “I mean, it wouldn’t be that difficult.” Again Kennedy’s comment was met with slightly puzzled frowns. “Look,” she rolled her eyes, “we know where she is, we could arrange a jailbreak, maybe one of us could go inside undercover,” the excitement in Kennedy’s voice was starting to get the better of her, “Or-or we could get a helicopter and…”

“I don’t think that would work, sweetie,” Willow told her partner calmly.

“C-couldn’t you magic her out?” Dawn asked Willow from across the table.

“Umm…” Willow was caught in a quandary; she could indeed ‘magic’ Buffy out, but that would be illegal or would be if the law recognised magic, so was it really illegal?

“Apart from the obvious legalities of the situation,” Giles announced from the head of the table, “assuming we got Buffy out of jail, the chances are she’d have to spend the rest of her life on the run.”

“Couldn’t Kennedy’s father’s lawyers help?” Xander asked.

“They’re mainly corporate lawyers,” Kennedy replied quickly, “they don’t have much to do with criminal law.” Kennedy was still in favour of breaking Buffy out, with ‘St Buffy of the Stake’ on the run for the rest of her life, Kennedy might never have to go on another mission with her, “I could ask though.”

“Good idea, Xander,” Giles nodded at Xander and then turned to look at Kennedy, “If you could follow up on that please Kennedy?”

“Sure,” Kennedy nodded her head, she was almost sure her father’s legal team wouldn’t be able to help; to her it looked like the jail break option was the only way out for Buffy.

“Hey,” Faith spoke up from the opposite end of the table from Giles, “I think Kennie’s right.”

All heads now turned to look at Faith.

 _“Yes!”_ Kennedy punched the air, however, her exuberance soon deserted her when she saw the annoyed look Willow was giving her.

“Look,” Faith shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I’m not saying that it should be our plan ‘A’, but its something we should look into. A plan ‘B’…”

“Or ‘C’ or ‘D’ or possibly ‘Z’!” Xander said quite forcefully.

“Hey, Harris I’m just saying…” Faith snapped.

“Please!” Giles held up his hands for quiet, “Lets hear what Faith has to say.” He turned from Xander back to Faith and nodded his head for her to continue, “You were saying?”

“I just think its something we should look into that’s all,” Faith explained, “keep our options open, y’know? Don’t ya think this was all like a set up or something?”

“Indeed,” agreed Giles, “there have been certain elements of Buffy’s case that I’ve not been happy with…”

“Like the whole Buffy being totally arrested, and sent to prison thing,” Dawn pointed out miserably.

“My point exactly,” Giles rested his elbows on the table, “how come the police arrived at that particular house at exactly the right moment to catch Buffy breaking in?”

“Yeah, and in large enough numbers to discourage her from running away,” Xander gestured down the table at Giles as he made his point, “How come there was all that evidence that Buffy was this infamous cat-burglar-woman? Where did all that stuff in her chalet come from?”

When the police had searched Buffy’s chalet on the old holiday camp where she lived they had indeed found several pieces of antique silverware that she couldn’t explain. There were also bundles of cash hidden under her bed as well as unusual amounts of money in her personal bank account that couldn’t be explained. The police case had looked as if it had been served up to them on a plate, it’d all been far too easy…convenient even.

“Agreed,” Giles looked around the table as everyone watched him expectantly. “This is what I suggest,” he announced slowly, “Faith, you and Kennedy look into the options for breaking Buffy out of jail. Dawn, Xander I want you to reinvestigate the actual case itself, while Willow and myself look into any other-worldly explanations. Are there any other suggestions?”

Raising her hand, Willow bounced up and down slightly on her chair in her excitement to tell everybody her news.

“Oh-oh guys!” Willow cried excitedly, “I got some good news, not about Buffy of course, we’ve only just decided what we’re gonna do about that and well we’ve only just begun so it’d be weird if I’d come up with something so soon and…”

“Willow?” Giles frowned at Willow bringing her runaway mouth to a halt, “What did you want to tell us?”

“You know the gay thing,” Willow beamed happily around the room at all the gloomy faces facing her, “I’ve found a cure!”

Several weeks earlier and for no adequately explained reason, every slayer in the world had turned gay, more or less overnight. Apart from it being a spell of some kind, Willow and Giles had not been able to find out who’d done it or even why they’d done it.

“So?” Faith who’d been in a relationship with Dawn since before ‘The Night of the Lesbians’ asked.

“Well, I can put everyone back like they were before,” Willow explained a little crestfallen that her announcement hadn’t met with the universal acclaim she’d expected.

“What if they don’t want to be put back the way they were,” Dawn asked being a recent convert to the ‘I’m gay now’ club, “maybe they’re happy as they are.”

“That’s the beauty of the reversal spell,” Willow pointed out, “it’s really simple every slayer can do it herself, I just have to post the spell on ‘Slayernet’!”

Willow referred to the secret slayer website she’d set up.

“Well, jolly good,” Giles, despite his words, didn’t sound at all jolly, “you deal with that and then get right on with more important things like getting Buffy out of prison, hmm?”

“Hey,” moaned Willow as the meeting broke up, “anybody would think that I don’t care about helping Buffy.”

“I know you do, honey,” Kennedy whispered as she slipped her arm around Willow’s waist, “it’s just, I don’t think everyone really appreciates all you do round here.”

“Damn straight,” Willow agreed with a frown.

0=0=0=0

**Author’s notes.**

Porridge was a British sitcom broadcast by the BBC from 1974 to 1977, running for three series, two Christmas specials and a feature film. Written by Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais, it starred Ronnie Barker and Richard Beckinsale as two inmates at the fictional HMP Slade in Cumberland/Cumbria. "Doing porridge" is a British slang term for serving a prison sentence, porridge once being the traditional breakfast in UK prisons.

Of course I’ve had to change Slade from a male prison to a female one and feminise all the characters. I also suspect that there was never a prison quite like Slade. If you are expecting a damning indictment of the penal system here in the UK you will be sadly disappointed.

‘Porridge’ was a comedy and I’ve tried to keep my fic true to the original, although once or twice a certain ‘darkness’ creeps into the story. I’ve also added a bit of love interest although this is by no means a lesbian love-fest! But you have to put in a bit of Femslash in a story set in a women’s prison…I mean its in the site rules…I’m sure I read it somewhere!

Hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

Steeleye.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

**Slade Prison.**

Peeping over the top of the pile of bedding in her arms, Buffy looked into the cell that was going to be her home for the next five years. Sighing resignedly she stepped over the threshold and took a closer look. The room was about twelve feet by eight, slightly bigger than the one she’d just spent the night in. There was a small window high up on one wall which was safely secured with half a dozen thick iron bars. The walls were painted that special institutional green that you never saw anywhere else in the world outside of government buildings. The floor was covered with polished faded grey linoleum. There was a table and two chairs against one wall, while a bunk bed rested against the other. Two small cupboards and what looked like an antique wash stand completed the cell’s furnishings. Dumping her bedding on the bottom bunk, Buffy looked up at the woman whose face was hidden behind the newspaper she was reading as she lay on the top bunk.

“Hi I’m Buffy Summers,” Buffy announced brightly hoping to start a good relationship with her cell-mate.

The newspaper moved to reveal the blonde woman who’d arrived at Slade with Buffy the previous day. 

“Who?” Fletcher replied as she frowned down at Buffy.

“Buffy Summers,” Buffy repeated still keeping the smile on her face.

“From the colonies are we then?” Fletcher asked as she shifted her position so she could get a better look at Buffy.

“I’m American if that’s what you mean, California actually,” Buffy’s smile slipped a little.

“Ah,” Fletcher nodded her head knowingly, “that would explain it then.”

“Explain what?” By now Buffy was frowning.

“The name,” Fletcher sat up and looked down at Buffy.

“What’s wrong with my name?” Buffy demanded thinking that Fletcher didn’t seem near as nice as she had yesterday, “My mother gave me that name.”

“Why? Didn’t she like you or something?” Fletcher continued straight faced, “Couldn’t you ‘ave asked her to change it, or somethin’?”

“My mother’s dead,” Buffy snapped.

“From embarrassment?” Fletcher continued to watch Buffy closely as she spoke.

“Why you…!” Buffy began angrily as the woman jumped down from her bunk.

“Norma May Fletcher,” the woman held out her hand to Buffy and smiled, “sorry about that, I had to see what sort of cell-mate I’d drawn…I wouldn’t want to be stuck in ‘ere with some nutter who’d fly off the handle at the slightest thing…and I’m sorry about saying that about your mum.”

“Oh,” Buffy was a little taken aback by the sudden turn of events; she took Norma’s hand and shook it.

“Your first time inside isn’t it?” Norma crossed the cell to look out the door before she came back to study Buffy more closely.

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded sadly, “I was framed…”

“Weren’t we all, luv,” Norma pointed out sadly, “this place is full of innocent women. Terrible thing the justice system in this country, ain’t it?”

“What are you in for?” Buffy sat down on the edge of her bunk and looked up at her ‘roomy’.

“Five years,” Norma replied.

“Oh!” Buffy smiled, “same here, but I meant what offence?”

“None taken,” Norma shot back before sighing and shaking her head, she looked Buffy straight in the eye, “look you never ask anyone what they’re in for. If they want to tell you, fine, okay? Now, from now on you’re just ‘Summers’, leave your proper name outside, understand? If ya want we can be Buffy and Norma in here but not outside, understand?”

“Why?” Buffy wanted to know.

“It’s just best that way,” Norma replied.

Buffy nodded her head as she started to appreciate just how different her life was going to be now she was in prison.

“All the turn-keys…” Norma started to explain but Buffy interrupted her.

“Turn-keys?”

“The warders, the prison officers,” Norma clarified, “you always call them ‘Miss ‘whatever’ and you call the Governor ‘Ma’am’ if you ever have cause to talk to her. Don’t get into fights and keep three things in mind. One; bide your time. Two; keep your nose clean. And three; don't let the bastards grind you down.”

Buffy wondered how the cleanliness of her nose made any difference to her life behind bars, “I’ll bear that in mind,” she felt her heart sink further towards her feet.

It wasn’t that she was scared, there was nothing and no one in Slade that could possibly frighten her; after all she’d faced real monsters since she was fifteen years old. What could there be in prison that was worse than that? No, what was depressing her was the knowledge that she needn’t be there, that she could easily break out and knowing that she’d been falsely accused just made the urge to walk away from this all the more tempting.

“You’re not gay are you?” Norma asked, “Not that I’ve got anything against the ‘gay sisterhood’ but I’d rather not find you crawling into my bunk one of these dark, cold, lonely nights, that’s all.”

“Yes,” Buffy admitted, “but only sort of,” pre-empting anything Norma might have to say, Buffy continued, “it’s difficult to explain, but I promises it won’t be a problem between us.”

So far she’d not actually slept with another girl…as long as you didn’t count the night she’d slept with Kennedy and that was hardly her fault. They’d been forced to share a bed in that little hotel they’d been staying in and one morning they’d sort of woken up naked…in each others arms, not really understanding what had happened to them. Luckily, so far, Willow hadn’t found out.

“So,” Norma broke into Buffy’s thoughts, “what’re you in for?”

“I got caught,” Buffy smiled.

“That’s the ticket,” Norma stood up, “come on, we’d better get your bed made, it’ll be dinnertime soon.”

0=0=0=0

**Buffy’s Chalet, Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the Sea.**

Standing in the middle of Buffy’s living room, Willow looked around and couldn’t help thinking how forlorn and empty it looked without Buffy being there. Okay, she had Kennedy whom she loved and who loved her back more than she really deserved. But Buffy had been her friend from way back in High School and even at her worst, Buffy had always just sort of been there.

Okay, so Buffy had hit her that time, but that was the booze punching and she was over that now. Much against her will, Willow found herself glancing around the room for any bottles of booze that might be lying around; she saw none. What if Buffy had actually done all those terrible things that the police had said she’d done? Perhaps she’d grown bored with chasing the undead, hadn’t she said that she didn’t feel appreciated and she was fed up with not having enough money to buy the stuff she wanted and…

“Anything?” Giles asked as he walked into the room.

“No,” Willow sighed, “I’ve not started the spell yet.”

They’d decided to try a spell that would tell them if anyone had used magic to influence Buffy’s actions making her go out and commit all those dreadful crimes that the police had said she’d committed.

“Giles,” Willow turned to face her old friend and mentor, “what if Buffy really did do all those awful things.”

“Willow,” Giles smiled reassuringly down at her, “there’s no way Buffy could have done anything like what the police said; I’m surprised at you for even thinking it…” Giles’ voice faded away for a moment. “However,” he said slowly, “it might explain…”

“OH!” Willow exclaimed suddenly, “Giles!?”

“What!?” Giles looked around as if he expected to see some monster about to attack them.

“Don’t you see it?” Willow continued not exactly expanding on what had got her all worked up.

“See what?” Giles demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“We’re both doubting Buffy,” Willow finally explained. “We’d never do that, well, maybe once or twice, but as a general principle we wouldn’t doubt Buffy’s honesty, would we?”

“Well I…” Giles stopped to think for a moment, he didn’t like what he was thinking and pushed these uncharitable thoughts to one side, “What are you trying to say, Willow?”

“Hold on,” Willow held up her hand for silence before starting to mutter a rhyming couplet under her breath. “There, done!”

“Done what?” Giles gave Willow a puzzled look just before his face relaxed and he looked at her in admiration, “How did you know?”

“Who are the two people on the entire planet that would never doubt Buffy’s honesty?” Willow asked.

“You and I,” Giles replied slowly, “I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Willow started to move around the room looking for something, “so when we both started to doubt Buffy I said to myself, ‘Self! There’s something wrong here’.”

“You think someone put a hex on the room,” Giles joined Willow in searching the room, “By-the-way, what are we looking for?”

“Some sort of charm or other magic object,” Willow started to pull cushions off Buffy’s settee and throw them on the floor. “I think someone put something in here that would make people think that Buffy was guilty and if you were already thinking that anyway…”

“Like the police,” Giles was in the kitchenette opening cupboards and moving tins and packets about to look behind them.

“Exactly,” Willow had now moved on to the pile of magazines under the TV set, “they’d be easily fooled into thinking that Buffy was really guilty. After all hadn’t they caught her red handed?”

“Of course,” Giles opened the fridge and looked in the freezer compartment, he saw something poking out from behind a tub of ice cream, “Willow!” he called urgently, “You’d better take a look at this.”

Rushing over to the fridge, Willow crouched down to see what Giles had found. Reaching into the ice box, she moved the ice cream to reveal a small leather pouch with some black feathers tied around it with red tread.

“Looks like we’ve found it,” Willow carefully removed the charm from the fridge and studied it closely for a minute. “I’ll have to take it home and pull it apart but I bet this is what’s causing everyone who comes in here to doubt Buffy.”

“Good,” Giles smiled hopefully, “Now all we have to do is convince the police and the courts that they were influenced by a magic spell and then find whoever planted it there.”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

“Who’s that?” Buffy asked Norma as she pointed down at the group of three women on the ground floor level of the cell block.

Buffy’s second night in jail had passed without major incident; at first she’d been a little perturbed by the cries of distress from several inmates, once or twice it’d sounded like they were being attacked by vampires or something. However, as Norma hadn’t made any comment, Buffy just assumed that it was all normal behaviour and she’d get used to it.

“Who?” Norma came to stand next to Buffy; they were supposed to be on their way to washroom.

“There,” Buffy pointed again at the three women.

“Oh,” Norma looked uncomfortable, “That’s ‘Genial Harriet Grout’ and her two henchwomen, Samson and Delilah. Groutie runs the prison.”

“I thought the governor did that,” Buffy said as they continued towards the washrooms.

“Nah,” Norma explained, “Groutie runs everything ‘round ‘ere, nothin’ ‘appens without ‘er say so.”

“Don’t the ‘screws’,” Buffy tried out her newly acquired prison slang, “have something to say about that?”

“Too scared,” Norma pointed out.

“Samson and Delilah?” Buffy asked filling away the information for future use.

“Samson’s, Groutie’s muscle,” Norma pointed out, “no one’s too sure whether she’s actually a woman or a bloke who got sent ‘ere by mistake.” Norma pushed open the doors to the washroom, “Delilah is Groutie’s squeeze.”

Pausing, Norma gestured to the washroom, which was at present full of women completing their morning ablutions.

“This is,” Norma pointed out, “as you might have guessed, the washroom. Showers over there,” Norma pointed into the mist of steam and semi naked bodies, “toilets and sinks over there,” Norma gestured to a different part of the washroom. “Oh and one more thing,” Norma and Buffy walked further into the washroom together, “best not to hang about in ‘ere too long if you’re on your own.”

“Why?” Buffy asked as she stepped up to a free clothes hook next to Norma’s.

“Ambush Alley, they call this, so you better keep your hand on your hayp-ni,” Norma started to strip off.

“My what?” Buffy asked as she followed Norma’s example. 

“Not a safe place, if you know what I mean?” Norma continued ignoring Buffy’s question, “You get all sorts in here; drug addicts, alcoholics, violent bastards the lot and then there’s the honest criminals like us, of course. I tell you when someone walks in here and just sits down and gets on with it, it’s like a breath of fresh air!”

“I’ll remember that,” Buffy stepped into the communal shower.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Hospital Wing.**

Walking slowly along the corridor, Harriet Grout looked and acted as if she owned the entire prison, which in a way she did, nothing happened here without her say so. When she’d first been jailed, ten years before, she’d riled against all the iron bars that she couldn’t break free from. But then as she grown used to prison life (and all the iron that surrounded her) she realised that things suited her very nicely, thank-you. Easily able to influence the minds of those weak souls around her, she found she could get anything she wanted. In fact she’d made a very comfortable home for herself; after all there was plenty to eat and no bothersome slayers or watchers to make life difficult for her. Walking into the little waiting area just outside the MO’s office, Harriet looked around at the half-a-dozen women sitting on the hard chairs outside the examination room. Ives, an unpleasant, short, rat faced woman stood up as Harriet walked into the room.

“Do you want to go next, Miss Grout?” Ives asked obsequiously, Harriet ignored her as she walked further into the room. “I’m in no rush,” explained Ives.

“I’m afraid you’ll all have to clear out,” Harriet announced not bothering to turn and look at her fellow inmates, “I need this room for a meeting.” Slowly she turned to face the frightened women sitting on the chairs behind her and smiled nastily, “On your way, ladies.”

Quickly four of the six women got up and left the room as fast as they could move, one woman, however, moved forward to challenge Harriet.

“But I require urgent medical attention,” the woman was a tall, thin, school teacher-like woman with a high pitched voice; everybody knew her as ‘Teach’; she was in for three years for embezzlement, “My boil needs lancing.”

“If you don’t hop it,” snarled Harriet menacingly, “I’ll have one of my girls lance it for you.”

This threat proved too much for Teach and she rapidly followed the other women out the door and down the corridor.

“Of course I could do it myself,” Harriet called after the rapidly departing woman, “y’know if I were to pay a little visit one night.”

Turning, Harriet looked down at the only other woman left in the room with her.

“We haven’t met,” said the woman, she had her arm in a sling.

“I’m Harriet Grout,” Harriet pointed out.

“Everyone knows that,” replied the woman with the injured arm, she removed her arm from the sling and held out her hand to Harriet before introducing herself, “Billie Oakes.”

“I know your form, Oakesy,” Harriet shook the offered hand before sitting down next to Billie, “you’re no second rater.” Harriet made herself comfortable, “You were moved here from Wakefield, where you obviously kept your nose clean,” Wakefield was a high security prison. “you was halfway through a twelve year stretch, for armed robbery wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” Billie replied shortly; Billie was a hard looking woman in her early thirty’s.

“Big pay-out, your last job,” Harriet turned her head the better to watch Billie’s reaction. “I hope the money’s safe.”

“It’s been invested for me,” Billie replied coldly.

“That’s good,” Harriet smiled, “safe as houses then.”

“That’s why I want out,” Billie told her, “I wish to unfreeze my assets and take off to the sun; get me-self a bit of a tan if you know what I mean?”

“I can see how you would,” Harriet nodded her agreement.

“Obviously there’ll be appropriate recompense for your good self,” Billie reassured Harriet.

“Yeah, I like the word, ‘recompense’,” Harriet pointed out, “I’ll tell you what my thinking on ‘recompense’ is,” Harriet paused for just a second, “Twenty-five-thousand, fifteen up front and the rest once you’re out. It’s only fare that the lion’s share’s up front. Once people take off to the sun they don’t always remember about the debts that they leave behind them.”

“Where do you want it put?” Billie asked agreeing to the terms without argument; she’d been willing to pay up to thirty-thousand.

“Hastings and Thanet Building Society, Bexhill branch,” Harriet said quickly, in five years when she finally got out she planned on being an independently wealthy demon.

“How long will you need?” Billie knew that this sort of job needed careful planning.

“Up to three months,” Harriet informed her.

“Supposing you don’t spring me?” Billie asked.

“Then you’ll get your money back,” Harriet smiled, “of course I keep the interest.”

The two women stood up and shook hands on the deal before leaving the waiting room together.

0=0=0=0


	3. Chapter 3

3.

**Slade Prison.**

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to these early nights,” Buffy announced as she walked into the cell she shared with Norma.

Having been ‘inside’ for over a month now, Buffy was getting into the swing of prison routine. However, the one thing she decided she’d never be able to get used to was the early nights. After tea you had what was called ‘free association’ until seven-fifteen; during this time you could read, play boardgames with other inmates or do some hobby activity. At seven-fifteen you had to go back to your cell, you then had forty minutes to wash and use the toilets before lock-up at about seven-fifty-five; lights out was five minutes later.

“Why?” Asked Norma from her usual position on her bunk, “You got somewhere better to go?” She smiled, “Planning on goin’ out clubbin’ are we?”

“No,” Buffy signed as she sat down on one of the two chairs and towelled her hair dry, “it’s just I was used to being out at night, it was part of my job.”

“Oh,” Norma eyed Buffy over the top of her newspaper, “right little lady of the night, was we?”

“Yes, but not in the way you mean,” Buffy frowned at her cell-mate as she hung her damp towel over the back of the chair to dry.

“What do you mean then?” Norma put down her paper and sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of her bunk; Buffy noticed that she was already wearing her stripy pyjamas.

“It’s difficult to explain,” Buffy wondered if she could trust this woman with her deepest, darkest secret; ‘not just yet’ she decided, “but most of my really important work was done at night,” an idea came to her that she hoped would deflect Norma’s questions for the time being. “I used to work for a charity that helped runaway kids, try to keep them off drugs, and out of trouble, you know?”

“Ah, I see,” Norma swung her legs back up onto her bunk, “bit of a do-gooder eh?”

“We tried,” Buffy admitted.

“Didn’t help you though did it?” Norma pointed out, “Odd they didn’t take your good works into account when they passed sentence.”

“Whatever,” Buffy replied non-committally.

Standing up, Buffy pulled off her t-shirt and took off her bra before slipping on her pyjama top; she couldn’t bring herself to wear the bottoms so she just kept her panties on instead. Climbing onto her bunk she noticed the cell door being pulled shut and heard it slam and lock. Shivering slightly at the noise she pushed her feet under her blankets, the lights would be going off soon.

“I ‘ear you got a job in the kitchens,” Norma’s voice floated down from above, “how’d you manage that then?” Norma’s head suddenly appeared next to Buffy’s as she hung over the side of her bunk to look down at her, “You’re not the Governor’s niece are you?”

For the last couple of weeks, Buffy had been working in the Sewing Shop making prison uniforms. Working hard, she’d impressed the screws who’d decided to reward her with a more prestigious job.

“No!” Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at Norma’s antics, “I don’t know, it’s not as if I can cook that well.”

“Ah,” Norma’s head disappeared from Buffy’s view, “that explains it then.”

“It does?” Buffy invited Norma to complete her train of thought.

“Well,” Norma started to move around getting herself comfortable, “this is prison, right?”

“I had noticed, but I don’t follow,” Buffy pushed back her own blankets and wriggled into bed, it was almost time for lights out.

“Well,” Norma explained, “this is prison an’ we’ve been sent ‘ere to be punished, so the last people you want to be working in the kitchen is people what can actually cook! Stands to reason, don’t it?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Buffy had to admit that Norma had a point, just then the lights went out and Buffy laid her head down on her pillow.

“Good night Norma,” she called quietly.

“Good night luv,” came the reply.

0=0=0=0

**Dawn and Faith’s Flat, Middlesbrough.**

Switching off the light, Dawn padded across the bedroom carpet and climbed into bed next to Faith.

“How did the patrol go?” Dawn asked as she pulled off the big baggy t-shirt she wore as a nightdress.

“Cool,” Faith admitted as she turned the page of the latest historical novel she was reading, “just let me finish this page and I’ll be right with ya.”

“Okay,” Dawn snuggled down under the duvet as she waited for Faith to finish reading.

Six months before Faith had come to Dawn asking her for help to ‘improve herself’. After a little trial and error Faith had settled on local history as a hobby; not only did it help when they were faced by some local demon, the historical novels she’d taken to reading had improved her vocabulary, spelling and comprehension.

“Right!” Faith closed her book with a snap and put it on her night stand before switching off the light; she wriggled under the duvet and turned to put her arm around Dawn. “Ya okay, right?” Faith asked slightly concerned as she felt Dawn’s body stiffen slightly.

“Yeah,” Dawn sighed softly and relaxed again, she loved the touch of Faith’s skin against her own, she found it very comforting…and sexy, “I was just thinking about Buffy is all.”

“Don’t sweat it kid,” Faith said reassuringly, “we’ll get her out one way or another.”

Kennedy and herself had been looking into the practicalities of breaking Buffy out of jail if more legal methods failed. Surprisingly the two women worked well together; they complemented each others strengths and weaknesses. They came from such wildly differing backgrounds that they had two completely different skill sets. They also shared the opinion that Buffy could be, at times, a complete pain in the ass, where as they were both super-cool and knew how to enjoy themselves.

“We’re going up with Willow to give the jail the once over next weekend,” Faith explained as she moved her hand to rest lightly on Dawn’s breast.

“Why can’t I come?” Dawn wanted to know; she turned over onto her side so she was facing Faith as she stroked her hip and thigh.

“Willow thought…” Faith didn’t get to finish what she was saying because Dawn interrupted her.

“Willow says this,” Dawn snapped making Faith back off a little, “Willow says that, any body’d think she was totally in charge.”

“Erm,” Faith hesitated for just a second, “she is…when watcher-man isn’t around.” Faith smiled in the darkness, “Remember, Buffy said so?”

“Yeah okay,” Dawn relaxed and snuggled up to her girlfriend, “Y’know I totally hate it when you’re right.”

“Sorry,” Faith gave Dawn a long slow kiss as she ran her hands over Dawn’s lithe body.

“Gods,” sighed Dawn, “you’re a great kisser.”

“Hey,” Faith nuzzled at Dawn’s neck feeling her shiver with desire, “that’s two things I’m really good at.”

“Okay,” Dawn giggled as she felt Faith’s hand slide across her body and come to rest between her legs, “kissing’s one…what’s the other?”

“Why you!” Faith pushed Dawn onto her back and climbed on top of her.

“No! Please!” Dawn giggled as she felt herself being held down by strong slayer arms, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it!” she laughed.

“Time I taught ya a lesson,” Faith lowered her lips onto Dawn’s who immediately stopped laughing and started moaning instead.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

Waking up with a start, Buffy sat up in bed, she forgot she was sleeping in a bunk bed and bounced her head off the underside of Norma’s mattress.

“W-what…?” Norma’s voice came sleepily from above.

“Shhh!” Buffy hissed as she strained her ears.

Over the years Buffy had grown out of the need to hunt every night, now she was older she didn’t feel the urge to hunt as much as she used to. These days she could go months without feeling like she wanted to gnaw her own leg off if she didn’t go out and kill something. However, she still felt more attuned to evil at night and tonight she could feel something evil moving around the prison.

“Go back to sleep, will you?” Norma shifted on her bunk as she turned over and tried to get back to sleep.

Just as Buffy was thinking that it was probably nothing, she heard a long, blood chilling scream coming from somewhere on her wing. Somehow, Buffy knew she should be out there helping; but, how was she going to explain the door that had been ripped off its hinges? How would she explain anything else she’d no doubt have to break down or go through to get to the terrified woman whose screams echoed around the cell block and through her head? 

“What’s going on Norma?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Probably just some nerk having a fit or something,” Norma replied with a yawn, “don’t worry the screws’ll deal with it.”

Sure enough Buffy heard shoes running along the landing outside, the jangling of keys as someone unlocked a door and the screaming slowly fading away.

“But that’s what I used to do,” Buffy sniffed, “help the victims.”

0=0=0=0

The next day Slade was alive with rumours about what had happened the night before; some women claimed that someone had been murdered. Others said that an inmate had tried to commit suicide while yet more claimed that they’d seen someone being taken away on a stretcher to the Hospital Wing. Whatever the truth, when Buffy lined up for her breakfast she didn’t notice the tall thin woman that everyone called ‘Teach’ standing in line like she normally did.

After breakfast and cleaning out her cell with Norma, a prison officer came to escort Buffy to the kitchen where she’d be starting her new job. Smiling when she saw who her escort was to be, Buffy walked smartly along just in front of the officer as they started their journey down to the kitchen.

“Thank-you,” Buffy said pleasantly as the officer opened a gate for her and she walked through; she’d seen Norma do this and noticed how it always annoyed the screws slightly. Buffy waited while Miss Barrowclough locked the gate behind them. “Erm, Miss Barrowclough,” Buffy tried to sound innocent, which was amazingly difficult now seeing how she was in jail, “do you know what was going on last night, in the wing I mean?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, Summers,” Barrowclough replied tight lipped, the woman appeared disinclined to say anything more as they marched on in silence.

Odd, thought Buffy, of all the screws Miss Barrowclough was generally thought of as being the most gullible and the most talkative. All too soon Buffy found herself at the kitchen where Miss Barrowclough handed her over to another screw, a Miss Wilde. Here Buffy was searched; always something Buffy found degrading but she endured it in silence. Next she was issued with a set of cook’s whites and led into the kitchen itself and put into the custody of the screw who acted as the head cook, a Miss Appleton.

0=0=0=0

It was about mid-morning and Buffy was mindlessly peeling and cutting up potatoes; imagining each one was some sort of potato demon and she was cutting out their eyes instead of just cutting the eyes out of the spuds. As she worked, Janet McLaren sat down and started to work beside her. Janet was a pretty, nineteen year old, mixed race girl from Glasgow. Despite her, at times, almost impenetrable accent, her tough-girl image that would’ve made Faith wince and the fact that she was serving five years for forgery with violence; she’d always been friendly towards Buffy and would often sit and talk to her or play cards with her during the evenings.

“Did ye hear the commotion lest night?” McLaren spoke softly; Miss Appleton didn’t mind the inmates talking as long as they got on with their work and kept the noise down.

“Yeah, couldn’t really miss it,” Buffy nodded as she gouged out the eyes of another potato demon, “do you know what happened?”

“Nae,” McLaren shrugged her shoulders as she deftly peeled another potato, “nae fur sure,” the girl looked around as if checking that no one was eavesdropping, “they dae say, ‘at it was the ghost ay Slade Prison, y’ken?”

“Ghost?” Buffy stopped eye gouging and turned to look at McLaren.

“Aye,” the girl continued, “Slade is famoos fur it.”  
.  
“Famous eh?” Buffy eyed her friend suspiciously, “So why haven’t I heard about it before,” she attacked a new potato, “just because I’m American doesn’t mean I was totally born yesterday, okay?”

“Hey, hen,” McLaren looked a little hurt, not a lot but a little, “Ah woods nae try tae pull the wool ower the een ay mah friends, y’ken?”

“Okay,” Buffy relented, “what about this ghost then?”

“Bin aroond fur the lest ten or sae years,” McLaren confided, “every coople ay months, they say…”

“They?” Buffy found she’d come to the end of her pile of potatoes, so she picked up one she’d already prepared and pretended to be still peeling it, “Who are ‘they’? My mother always told me to be suspicious of stories that come from ‘they’.”

Her mother had never said any such thing, but Buffy thought it was probably something her mother would have said had she thought of it.

“Och,” McLaren shrugged unused to being questioned by anyone other than the police, “I don’t ken…them! Y’ken?”

“Okay, so you don’t know,” Buffy smiled at the teenager, “so what do ‘they’ say?”

“As ah wee sayin’,” McLaren settled down to her story telling once again, “every coople ay months or so, they say the ghost walks an’ feeds off a lassie’s dreams.”

“Feeds?” Buffy asked becoming more interested; from what she knew of ghosts they generally weren’t able to touch the living let alone feed off them.

“Aye, feeds,” McLaren was getting into the gruesome spirit of her story telling now, “they say it sucks the life oot o’ ye fur a while, y’kin?”

“I think I do,” Buffy replied slowly, “has it ever killed anyone and why doesn’t the Governor do something about it.”

“As far as Ah ken, its ne’er killed anyone,” McLaren dropped her last potato into the big bowl in front of them, she stood up and wiped her hands on her apron, “an’ it ne’er attacks the screws sae why shoods they caur? An’ anyway, the Governur disnae believe the stories.”

“So how does she explain these ‘attacks’?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Oh,” McLaren gestured for Buffy to help her move the container of potatoes, “hoo shoods Ah ken?”

Working through the day, Buffy thought about the ‘Ghost of Slade Prison’ and wondered if there was any truth in the stories; she asked one or two of the other inmates but either they didn’t know anything or weren’t telling. Eventually four o’clock came around and she had her tea in the kitchen with the rest of the kitchen staff. One of the perks of working in the kitchens was you got to eat in the kitchen itself and not in the dinning hall with the rest of the inmates. Getting back to her cell at about five, Buffy found Norma already there, she had a job on the prison farm.

“Here,” Buffy tossed Norma an apple she’d taken from the store in the kitchen; the screws were more worried about prisoners stealing knives that taking the occasional piece of fruit and tended to turn a blind eye; another perk of working in the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Norma caught the apple and put it in her personal cupboard, “now what do you want?”

“Hey,” Buffy was a little hurt by what Norma was suggesting, even if it was true.

“Come on now Buffy,” Norma winked, “what did I tell you? Everything has its price in here, just like on the outside and an apple like that could buy you a lot. So, what do you want?”

“Okay,” Buffy admitted with a sigh and sat down on a chair, “I admit it I’m after information…what do you know about the Ghost of Slade Prison?”

Turning to look at Buffy, Norma’s face went pale.

“Where’d you ‘ear about that then?” Norma crossed the cell and checked no one was within earshot on the landing.

“Janet McLaren told me,” Buffy explained, “she says it feeds off people’s dreams in the night.”

“You don’t want to be listening to naffin’ stupid Jock nerks like Janet McLaren,” Norma said sternly, “she don’t know anythin’ and neither do I and if you’ve got any sense you’ll not ask any more naffin’ foolish questions either, alright?”

“Okay,” Buffy held up her hands defensively, she didn’t want to upset her best friend; she smiled at the older woman, “look I’ve forgotten about it already.”

“Mind you ‘ave,” Norma climbed up on her bunk and started to read her newspaper again.

Watching Norma out of the corner of her eye, Buffy collected her things together to go and have a shower. Tomorrow was Saturday which meant she’d be getting a visit off her friends and maybe Dawn; she’d ask Willow to find out anything she could about mysterious prison ghosts.

“I’m going for a shower,” Buffy called as she headed for the door.

“Right-oh then,” Norma called from behind her paper, “if you’re not back in twenty minutes I’ll call International Rescue…and don’t forget…”

“I know,” Buffy sighed as she headed out the door, “I’ll keep my hand on my hayp-ni,” Buffy really wished she knew what her ‘hayp-ni’ was so she could follow Norma’s advice; she’d asked other inmates what her ‘hayp-ni’ was, but they’d just laughed at her and wouldn’t explain.

0=0=0=0


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Walking into the visiting room, Willow was surprised not to see all the little cubicles like you saw on American TV shows about prisons. Instead of the little stall-like compartments with their glass partitions and telephone-like intercoms, she saw a big room with five rows of five tables. Each table had one chair on one side, obviously for the prisoner, and two on the other for visitors.

The room itself was, as has already been mentioned, large; it had windows down one side and on the other three where a selection of posters, pinned up over the vile green paint. These explained what visitors could or could not do and what they could, or could not, give to their loved ones. Taking a deep breath, Willow walked further into the room heading towards a table next to the inside wall. Pulling out one of the visitor’s chairs she sat down to wait.

It had been decided that it would be best if Willow saw Buffy by herself to begin with; Giles and herself had been worried how Buffy would be adapting to prison life. They didn’t want to cause Dawn any more pain than was necessary if Buffy wasn’t doing so well. Apart from these considerations, Willow had a lot of ‘business’ to attend to with Buffy and having Dawn along would only be a distraction. Dawn could visit her sister next month; after that they’d work out a rota so that two people could see Buffy every month…if they hadn’t got her out by then of course.

Waiting on the increasingly hard chair, Willow looked around and watched as the room filled up with mothers, husbands and children. When about half the tables were filled a door in the far corner of the room opened and a prison officer walked in. After doing a quick head count she seemed satisfied; turning she said something to someone on the other side of the door and moments later the prisoners filed into the room. At first Willow didn’t recognise the woman coming towards her and when she did she was a little shocked by what she saw. Dressed in a grey dress, a bright orange waistcoat and with her hair tied back in a pony tail, Willow hardly recognised her best friend.

“Willow?” Buffy gave Willow a lopsided smile as she stood in front of her.

“Buffy?” Willow didn’t know whether she was allowed to give her friend a hug; she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she settled on a bit of both. “Oh Buffy,” Willow closed the gap between herself and Buffy and wrapped her arms around her neck, “I’ve missed you so…”

“Hey, Will,” Buffy returned Willow’s embrace and felt the tears start to burn in her own eyes, “hey look,” she said softly into Willows hair, “we better stop this before the screw thinks we’re having sex or something.”

“Screw?” Willow laughed as she let go of Buffy and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Prison officer, y’know?” Buffy explained, “Hey, Will,” Buffy gestured towards Willow’s tissue as they sat down, “You got a spare one of those?”

“Oh! Yes, here, I wasn’t thinking,” Willow dived into her bag and retrieved a pack of tissues and slid them across the table, “You better keep them.”

“Thanks,” Buffy took one of the tissues and wiped her own eyes before putting the rest of the pack into the pocket of her dress, “where’s Dawn?”

“Erm,” Willow hesitated for a moment, “we thought it best if she didn’t come this time.”

“We?” Buffy gave Willow a hard look.

“Giles and I,” Willow replied slowly, “we both thought it best if I came and checked that you were alright before Dawn came to visit. Is it really bad in here?”

“Not so much,” Buffy admitted, “once you get used to it.” Buffy tugged at her overly bright waistcoat, “Not exactly the height of fashion, but I manage.”

“Good,” Willow sighed with relief, if Buffy was making jokes about her clothes things couldn’t be too bad.

“I’ve made some friends,” Buffy glanced around the room and waved to McLaren who was sitting with her parents on the other side of the room by the window, “and Norma my cell-mate is really cool, haven’t made any enemies yet so everything’s good.”

At the mention of the word ‘cell-mate’ Willow nearly started crying again, but there was no time for that; she had a lot to tell Buffy and her friend wouldn’t appreciate her monthly visit being taken up watching her cry.

“Okay,” Willow dabbed at her eyes again and forced a smile, “I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

“Yeah,” Buffy grinned, “like when do I get out of here?”

“Soon,” Willow smiled and then reconsidered what she’d just said, “well, soonish…”

“Come on Will,” Buffy sat back in her chair, “spill, what have you found out?”

“Yeah right,” Willow took a second to order her thoughts, “Giles and I found someone had planted a spell in your chalet that would make people doubt your honesty, so…”

“Of course!” Buffy gasped, “So when the police came to search my place they’d have still thought I was guilty even if they hadn’t found all that stolen stuff. Look I didn’t steal anything,” Buffy whispered as she returned Willow’s suspicious look.

“Sorry,” Willow apologised, “residual magics from the spell. We’ve not been able to find out how that stuff turned up at your place. If we could find someone who saw anyone going into your chalet it’d go a long way towards proving your innocence.”

“Okay,” Buffy nodded, “what else?”

“Giles has been looking at the trial transcripts,” Willow explained, “and says there may be grounds for an appeal because you didn’t get a good defence.”

“So,” Buffy looked at Willow hopefully, “I’ll be out of here in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Erm,” Willow hesitated for a moment.

“Willow?” Buffy replied slowly.

“Look, Buffy it’s difficult,” Willow spread her hands helplessly.

“Not as difficult as being in here,” Buffy pointed out.

“I thought you said you were okay?” Willow replied defensively.

“I lied,” Buffy replied flatly.

“You see,” Willow continued after another short pause, “the more we look into stuff the more magic we find, there’s little low power spells all over the place. Unless you were actually looking for them you’d never notice them,” Willow explained miserably. “Telling the judge that you were framed by someone putting a hex on you, well…it’s not going to work.”

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy sighed and shook her head slowly, “is there _any_ good news?”

“I found away to reverse the lesbian thing,” Willow announced hoping that that would cheer her friend up.

“You what?” Buffy looked at her friend closely; she was trapped in prison and Willow was worrying about reversing lesbian spells?

“Right you know that ‘The Night of the Lesbians’ was a spell, right?” Willow asked and Buffy nodded her head, “Well, I found a way of reversing it so you can go back to how you were if you want.”

“Great,” Buffy’s face slowly split into a smile, “what do you need to do and can you do it while I’m in here?”

“That’s the great part,” Willow enthused, “I don’t have to do anything, all you have to do is say a simple rhyme and drink a cup of herb tea. I’ve got the herbs with me.”

“No!” Buffy frowned, “Put those away,” she gestured surreptitiously at the little packet of herbs in Willow’s hand, “the screws’ll think its drugs.”

“Okay,” Willow slid the herbs back into her bag and pulled out a notebook; quickly she wrote down a list of five ingredients before showing it to Buffy, “Can you get these herbs?”

“Sure,” Buffy nodded after taking the list and reading it, “I’ve got a job in the kitchens, these all look like things we’ve got.”

“Good,” Willow smiled, “doing the spell will help restore your ‘balance’.”

“My what?” Buffy frowned.

“When you got turned,” Willow explained, “you didn’t have any choice. Having the spell gives you back the choice and puts things back to how they should be,” Willow reached across the table and took hold of one of Buffy’s hands, she squeezed it gently, “Buffy,” Willow took a deep breath, “think hard about your choices before you use that spell.”

“Why?” Buffy wanted to know, the choice seemed pretty simple to her.

“Well,” Willow continued, “think what you really want, okay? You’d be amazed how many girls have chosen not to go back to how they were…and look,” Willow smiled impishly, “I’d really like it if my bestfriend shared my sexuality, so call me biased already!”

“Okay,” Buffy laughed quietly as she put the pieces of paper into her pocket, “I’ll think about it real hard.” Leaning across the table Buffy held onto Willow’s hands, “so, what’s everyone doing?”

“Well,” Willow gave her friend a resigned smile, “at this very moment Kennedy and Faith are outside planning your escape.”

“Oh, great!” Buffy laughed, “Just what I need. I hope they don’t expect me to start tunnelling out coz my cell’s on the first floor and the floors are really thick.”

0=0=0=0

“How’s Dawn?” Kennedy asked as she lowered the camera from her eye.

“She cries a lot when she thinks I can’t hear her,” Faith drummed her fingers on the steering wheel of the hire car.

“Yeah,” Kennedy checked the camera before taking another dozen shots of the prison exterior, “slayer hearing, who needs it?” 

Resting the camera in her lap, Kennedy turned her head to face Faith, she could tell the older slayer didn’t know what to do or say.

“You have to hold her a lot, Faith,” Kennedy explained, “let her know you’re there for her…how much you love her. Tell her everything will be okay, even if you don’t believe it yourself…that’s what I do for Willow anyway.”

“Red too?” Faith glanced at Kennedy before going back to watching the prison.

“Yeah,” Kennedy sighed, “mega guilt trip, you know? Thinks she should have seen everything and been able to stop it.”

“Ya not…?” Faith left the rest of her question unspoken.

“Christ no!” Kennedy replied vehemently, “All the bondage stuff is safely under lock and key, I won’t even spank her the way things are at the moment.”

“Guilt’s a killer,” Faith knew this from personnel experience, “it can really screw with ya mind.”

“So, what do you think?” Kennedy nodded at the prison walls; they were here to look into the practicalities of breaking Buffy out of jail, not to be crying on each other’s shoulders like a pair of big, soft, girly-girls, which they weren’t.

“Shouldn’t be a problem blowing a hole through those walls,” Faith pointed out professionally, “climbing them wouldn’t be too hard for a couple of motivated slayers.” She grinned at Kennedy; they were motivated if only to stop their girlfriend’s hearts from breaking. “I think we should get Maggie in on the deal,” Faith referred to one of the slayer instructors at slayer central, “she’s ex-army and might know some stuff…like how to blow stuff up.”

“But,” Kennedy had detected the hint of doubt in Faith’s voice, “it’s what we find once we get through the perimeter, right?”

“Right,” Faith agreed, “I’m betting that we won’t find the plans for this place on the internet.”

“However much magic Willow uses,” Kennedy mused, “same problem if we land inside by helicopter.”

“Yeah,” Faith agreed, “so we need Buffy outside the jail.”

“Which is what we’re trying to do,” Kennedy frowned, “but you mean grab her when they’re moving her from one place to another.”

“Right on,” Faith grinned, “so that’s court, hospital or prison transfer.”

“Hospital’s easiest to arrange at a guess,” Kennedy suggested.

“Get Red to whip up something that looks real bad?” Faith agreed.

“Might as well have Willow beam her out,” Kennedy took another couple of shots of the prison gates, “if she just vanished from her cell…”

“Locked room mystery,” Faith pointed out.

“On the crime novels now?” Kennedy asked just as she saw Willow leave the prison gate and start to walk towards the car.

“Red doesn’t look too happy,” Faith pointed out.

“Yeah,” Kennedy sighed, “just as well I bought loads of tissues with me.”

“Same here,” Faith nodded and patted her jacket pocket.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

“What’s this?” Miss Mackay, the Senior Prison Officer asked Buffy as another officer patted her down searching for contraband.

Visiting hour was over for this month and Buffy had gone back through the door into the prison proper. Like the other inmates who’d had visitors she’d been told to empty her pockets while a screw gave her a body search. Mackay, was a hard nosed Senior Officer who didn’t stand for any nonsense from the inmates, she held Willow’s spell in her hand.

“It’s a prayer,” Buffy explained.

“Doesn’t look like a prayer to me, Summers,” Mackay observed.

“My friend’s a Wiccan,” Buffy explained adding, “it’s a Wiccan prayer.”

“Oh,” Mackay put the note down by the pack of tissues Willow had given her and picked up the list of herbs, “and this?”

“Recipe for herbal tea,” Buffy explained, the screw who’d been searching her stood up, looked at Mackay and nodded, she’d not found anything she shouldn’t.

“Herbal tea eh?” Mackay studied the list for a moment; there was nothing on it that you couldn’t find in an average kitchen. “Alright Summers,” Mackay relented, “you can take your things this time, but don’t be getting any ideas. I’m watching you.”

“Right you are, Miss Mackay,” Buffy picked up both notes and the pack of tissues, “I’ll remember that.”

0=0=0=0

On her way back to the kitchen (Buffy was on ‘lates’ so she had to help prepare tea today) she decided to stop off at the washroom. Turning into the corridor, she saw Groutie’s ‘girl’, Samson standing blocking the door into the washroom. Unperturbed, Buffy walked up to the giant ‘woman’.

“You can’t go in,” Samson announced as ‘she’ stood in front of Buffy blocking her way.

“Why?” Buffy asked as she looked up into the…well she couldn’t decide what Samson was; Norma had been right, you couldn’t tell if he/she was a man or a woman short of a medical examination.

“It’s closed,” Samson informed Buffy.

“But I need to pee, okay?” Buffy gave Samson a pained look.

“Cross ya legs,” Samson told her unsympathetically.

“No,” Buffy replied simply, she hated this sort of low level bullying, “now get out of my way before I make you.”

“You?” Samson laughed in disbelief at the short, blonde woman in front of her, “Make me move?”

“Okay,” Buffy shrugged her shoulders and smiled, “you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Like a striking snake, Buffy’s fist shot out and hit Samson in the solar plexus. Clutching at her chest as she tried to breath, Samson collapsed wide eyed onto the floor. Stepping over the gasping form of Samson, Buffy pushed open the door and went into the washroom.

“What do you want?” demanded Groutie angrily, “Where’s Samson?”

Buffy kept heading for one of the stalls while not really looking at Groutie or the other woman with her, what they were doing in here was their own business.

“Hey,” Buffy called as she entered a stall and pulled the door closed behind her, “I’m in the ladies room, what do you think I’m doing? Samson’s outside; she seems to be having difficulty breathing.”

Hitching up her dress and pulling down her panties Buffy sat down as she listened to Groutie whisper something like, ‘we’ll finish this later’ before she and the other woman left the room. Sighing with relief, Buffy wondered idly what they’d be finishing later. Perhaps Groutie had got herself a new girlfriend? Buffy didn’t care what Groutie did or didn’t do, it was none of her business, she just wanted to keep her nose clean.

0=0=0=0


	5. Chapter 5

5.

It was Saturday afternoon, there was nothing on the telly except for sport, Buffy was having a visit from one of her friends and Norma had nothing to do. Saturday was a half day in Slade; this meant that after the midday lock up there was no work and prisoners were allowed an afternoon of free association. They could even play sports on the playing fields in the prison grounds if they wanted. None of this appealed to Norma at the moment as she wasn’t a particularly sporty person. All the prisoners that she usually play boardgames or cards with were watching the match on TV. It was beginning to look as if she’d have to go back to her cell and read a book while she waited for Buffy to reappear.

As she wandered aimlessly along the line of open cell doors, Norma didn’t immediately notice the shadow that had fallen across her. By the time she had it was too late and she had no way of pretending that she hadn’t noticed the woman who was blocking her path. Coming to a panicked halt, Norma looked up to see Samson looming over her like a mountain that blocked out the sun.

“Erm,” Norma smiled hoping to placate the monster as she looked for an escape route; there wasn’t one and of course there was never a screw around when you actually needed one, “’ello Sammie.”

“Groutie wants to see you,” rumbled the woman, her voice making Norma’s diaphragm vibrate in her chest in sympathy.

“She does?” Norma replied hopelessly.

“Yeah,” Samson nodded her massive head.

“Right then,” Norma replied with false jollity, “you better take me to see ‘er then.”

Standing to one side Samson allowed Norma to precede her along the line of cells until they came to Groutie’s. Gesturing for Norma to go in with one massive arm, Samson stood to one side of the door like a sentry. Hesitantly, Norma entered the liar of Slade’s ‘Mrs Big’. In an instant Norma took in the carpet on the floor, the double bed, the pictures on the wall and Groutie sitting in a large comfy chair under the cell window with Delilah standing at her side. It took Norma a moment to realise that Groutie’s cell was actually two cells knocked into one. Despite herself she couldn’t help but feel impressed by Groutie’s ability to get things done.

“‘Question Time’,” Groutie gestured to the radio that played softly in the background, “always been an ambition of mine to be on that program.” Groutie turned in her chair to look up at Delilah, “Hop it love,” she told her, “me an’ Norma have business to discuss.”

Obediently the sexy little brunette left the cell pulling the door closed behind her.

“I want to talk to you about this idea I’ve had, Norma,” Groutie got up from her chair and switched off the radio.

“Oh dear,” Norma sighed quietly, she’d been in enough nicks to know that ideas like the one Groutie probably had would mean trouble for someone…most likely one Norma May Fletcher.

“A football match,” Groutie announced unexpectedly; she explained further, “get a local team to come into the prison to give our girls a match. It’d be good for moral don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Norma almost fainted with relief, “Lovely idea, Groutie.”

“I know a bloke on the outside that could organise a visiting team,” Groutie explained as she sat back down in her chair. “I just need to get the Governor’s blessing.”

“Oh I’m sure the Gov’nor would do anything for you, Groutie,” Norma had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that something dreadful was about to happen and why was Groutie talking to her about a football match anyway?

“You suggest it Fletch,” Groutie said quietly, which had the effect of frightening Norma even more than if Groutie had been threatening her; it was the thinly disguised air of menace that scared Norma so much.

“Why me?” Norma squeaked as her voice broke in terror.

“Because you’re a woman who can be trusted,” Groutie explained reasonably, “and you know how to be subtle.”

“Oh, I see,” Norma realised what was going on here, “and if anything goes wrong it’ll all come back on me!”

“That’s right,” Groutie smiled and turned away from Norma to look out the window.

“Yeah,” Norma sighed resignedly, “don’t know why I didn’t think of that me-self.”

“Thank-you,” Groutie kept gazing out at the small patch of sky visible out of the cell window, “I won’t forget this, Fletch, now piss-off I’ve got a meeting to go to.”

Realising that she’d been dismissed; Norma shrugged in despair and slowly walked out of Groutie’s cell. Once outside and out of Groutie’s malevolent influence, Norma’s mind began to work at high speed trying to think of a way out of her present situation. The consequences of failure were too terrible to think about, she needed to find a way of making this work or at least proving to Groutie that she’d tried really hard to make it work and nothing was actually her fault when it didn’t.

The quickest way of getting the idea of a match against an outside team rejected was for Norma to go directly to Miss Mackay with it. The Senior Officer would reject the idea out of hand and Norma would probably have all her privileges withdrawn. What she needed was a go between of her own, not another inmate but someone that Mackay would listen to. Hearing the sound of footsteps on the landing behind her, Norma turned to see who it was.

“Just the woman,” Norma smiled to herself. “Erm, Miss Barrowclough,” Norma called out as she made a beeline for the prison office, “could I have a word? I’ve had this great idea!”

0=0=0=0

Walking back into her cell after her little run in with Samson outside the washroom, Buffy found Norma sitting on her bunk looking as white as a sheet.

“What’s wrong with you?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Just had a meeting with Harriet Grout,” Norma replied miserably.

“That’s funny,” Buffy started to unbutton her cook’s whites, “I totally bumped into Groutie myself in the washrooms.”

“Oh yeah,” Norma looked up at Buffy as she changed into her everyday dress, “just how ‘totally’ did you bump into Groutie then?”

Buffy explained her little piece of excitement with Groutie, Samson and the mystery prisoner in the washroom.

“You did what?” Norma looked at her appalled.

“Look,” Buffy explained again, “I really needed to go and I didn’t hit Samson that hard, I mean she was able to breath again…eventually. Anyone would think I’d killed her or something, hey and isn’t it about time someone totally took this Groutie woman down a peg or two?”

“You have to be alive to do that, my girl,” Norma buried her head in her hands, “and I was just starting to really get to like you too.”

“Whatever,” Buffy was fully dressed now and full of confidence, “believe me, I can deal with Groutie.”

“It’s not just Groutie you 'ave to deal with, Buffy,” Norma tried desperately to get the full extent of the trouble that Buffy was in over to her. “Groutie has friends…lots of very big, nasty, violent friends. Both in ‘ere an’ on the outside.”

“Not a problem,” to be honest Buffy was looking forward to the prospect of a good fight she’d not even been able to spar let alone fight for what felt like ages.

“Not a problem!?” Norma looked up at Buffy in horror, “Don’t you realise that Groutie could have you killed.”

“Look,” Buffy sat down on the bunk next to Norma, “a lot of, bigger, badder, nastier things than Groutie have tried to kill me over the years. And if she tries to get at my friends on the outside, she’s totally in for a big surprise. As you can see, I’m still here and the big bads aren’t.” Buffy grinned, “I say, let Groutie do her worst.”

“Bloody ‘ell, girl,” Norma gave Buffy a long apprising look, “where did you say you came from again?”

“I live near Saltburn-by-the-Sea just south of Middlesbrough,” Buffy told her.

“Ah, the frozen north, that would explain the death wish then.” Norma replied despondently. “No, I meant in the States, you’re not a Chicago gangster are you, or a Mafia hit woman or something?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head.

“Pity,” Norma sighed.

“Look,” Buffy started on the rehearsed story that all the Sunnydale veterans knew by heart. “Originally I lived in Los Angeles, but when I was about fifteen my mom and I moved to a place called Sunnydale. It had a big drug and gang problem, that’s why my mom and I could afford to live there. In Sunnydale you had to learn to fight to survive, don’t worry I know how to handle myself.”

“Yeah, okay,” Norma was still of the opinion that at the very least Buffy was going to get her legs broken. “Assuming you live the week out, can you by any chance play football?”

“Football?” Buffy repeated a little stunned by the change in topic, “You mean soccer?”

“Yes I mean soccer,” Norma sighed and shook her head in disgust, “the ‘beautiful game’, y'know?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy shrugged, “I’ve never played.”

“Can you run and kick a ball?” Norma asked getting down to basics.

“I suppose…” Buffy thought about this, Faith had taken up that Rugby game so why shouldn’t she try football? “I could totally give it a go, why?”

“Right, you’re on the team,” Norma told her.

“What team?” Buffy asked.

“The team that Groutie wants to play an outside team with,” Norma started to look a little happier as she explained, “If you’re a good enough player it might put Groutie off having you killed or crippled…for the time being anyway.”

“So,” Buffy stood up and headed for the door, “how come you get to say who’s on the team?”

“I’m the coach,” Norma replied glumly.

0=0=0=0

“Liquorish Allsort?” Buffy held out the bag of sweets to Norma; the older woman had been hanging around the cell all evening not going downstairs to play drafts like she normally did.

“Liquorish Allsorts?” Norma looked up in surprise; Liquorish Allsorts were like gold dust inside. “How’d you get them then?”

“Go on,” Buffy pushed the bag across the table towards Norma, “I saved you the pink ones with the coconut, I remember you said you liked them.”

“Thanks,” Norma took a sweet and put it in her mouth adding, “they remind me of when I was at school, so how’d you get your hands on ‘em?”

“I swapped half a pound of margarine I nicked from the kitchen,” Buffy explained lightly, “with that Silvia woman over in ‘D’ Wing.” 

“Wonder what she wanted it for,” Norma mused, “not like she can bake a cake in ‘er cell, is it?”

“I didn’t ask,” Buffy shrugged, “I really don’t think I want to know either.”

“No,” Norma thought for a couple of moments letting several possible uses for half a pound of margarine go through her mind, “its probably best not to. So, Buffy Summers,” Norma eyed Buffy as she chewed on her sweet, “you stole margarine from the kitchen to feed you liquorish habit.” Norma shook her head sadly, “This place is corrupting you my girl.”

“Whatever,” Buffy shrugged again not really having a good answer for the point Norma was making.

“How long have you been inside?” Norma wanted to know.

“Oh,” Buffy thought about the question for a moment, “must be getting on for three months now, I try not to count the days, y’know?”

“Three months and you’re nicking stuff from the kitchen,” Norma sighed and rested her chin on her fist as she studied Buffy. “You know I half believed all that stuff about you being framed, thing is,” Norma paused for a moment, “by the time you get outta here you’ll be a hardened criminal…prison changes you, y’know that?”

“Yeah sure,” Buffy looked at Norma closely, “I didn’t give you some of my hard earnt stash just to have you lecture me on the rights and wrongs of stealing margarine. I did it in the hopes of cheering you up. You’ve been sitting there all evening staring at the wall with a face as long as…as-as a very long thing, what’s up?”

“You mean apart from your imminent demise at the hands of Groutie’s goons?” Norma sounded a little angry but was trying not to let it show.

“I told you,” Buffy grinned and sat back in her chair, “I can handle everything Groutie throws at me, trust me on this.”

“Yeah alright,” Norma conceded, “but don’t come crying to me after someone tosses you over the railings from the forth floor,” scratching the back of her head Norma sighed once more, “It’s this football team thing…”

“Yeah, I totally wondered about that,” Buffy smirked, “you’re not exactly the most sport orientated woman in the nick, what did you do, sleep with the governor?”

“No!” Norma laughed, “I may not do any sport me-self, but I don’t mind others doing it, an’ I know a fair bit about football. Me dad used to take me to matches when I was little.”

“So?” Buffy hinted for Norma to finish explaining what was troubling her.

“What I want to know,” Norma began, “what’s really making me nervous is; why would Groutie suddenly get so interested in running a football match with an outside team?”

“Perhaps she’s running a book on the result,” Buffy suggested, “there’s lots of things you can bet on in a football match.”

“Nah,” Norma shook her head as she stood up, she could hear the screws bringing the association period to a close downstairs, “it’s gotta be something bigger than that.”

“Come on,” Buffy climbed to her feet, “last chance to ‘slop out’ before lights out. You want anything to eat?”

“Just coco tonight I think,” Norma said as they headed for the door.

0=0=0=0

Lying in her bunk Buffy stared at the bottom of Norma’s mattress; try as she might sleep just wouldn’t come, there were too many thoughts going through her head. Worrying about what Groutie might or might not try to do to her for hitting Samson wasn’t the cause of her inability to sleep. As she’d reassured Norma there was nothing Groutie could do to her that she couldn’t handle; she also knew that Groutie would have to try something and try it soon.

A show of disrespect like Buffy’s couldn’t go unanswered, if it did, Groutie would lose face and her position in the prison would start to crumble. Buffy just hoped that Groutie would try something soon so she could deal with it and then she could come to some arrangement with her. This mustn’t escalate into a full scale war which neither side could win and in which a lot of people could get hurt. But Groutie wasn’t what was keeping Buffy awake.

What was keeping Buffy from her beauty sleep was Willow’s spell to turn her straight again. At first the answer had been blindingly clear; use the spell the first chance she got and be straight, heterosexual Buffy Summers again. It was while she was collecting the herbs needed for the spell that the first doubts entered her mind; would being straight be that great?

Alright, Buffy told herself, being gay inside a women’s prison was frustrating as hell. Several of the women she classed as friends were attractive and really quite nice personally; she even felt sexually attracted to a couple of them. So, if she did the spell she wouldn’t feel frustrated by her self imposed refusal to get into a relationship with a woman. But, would being straight be any better in her present situation? 

It wasn’t as if she’d be going on any dates anytime soon, in fact the chances of even seeing a real, live, male, guy were slim to say the least. In fact, now she thought about it the only time she got up close and personal with a guy on the outside was just before she rammed a piece of wood through his heart; her recent dating history sucked. In fact her entire dating history sucked. A slight crush on her watcher when she was sixteen, a guy in school who’d only wanted to know her because she was dangerous. Two torrid, self destructive affairs with vampires and the only guy who’d really been in love with her in an honest, wholesome way, she’d let slip through her fingers and he’d married someone else.

A dating, disaster area just didn’t do her justice. No, Buffy turned over and stared at the cell wall, she was a failure with guys, perhaps the time had come to try girls? After all she’d still be surrounded by women even when she got out of prison. Maybe one of the older slayers was looking for a girlfriend. Yes, Buffy nodded to herself, that’s what she’d do; wait until she got out then start looking for a girlfriend, if it didn’t work out, Willow could still turn her straight again.

Having settled her restless thoughts, Buffy sighed contentedly and felt her eyelids start to grow heavy as she slowly fell asleep. As she slept, dreams came to her; she dreamed about getting out and seeing her sister and all her friends again. Of being able to do what she wanted when she wanted, but that would all have to wait until either her friends got her out or she’d served her time inside.

0=0=0=0


	6. Chapter 6

6.

“Come on Summers,” it was already morning and Miss Mackay stood in the doorway to Buffy’s cell and looked down at her, “time for your weekly lesbian orgy in the showers.”

“My what!?!?” Buffy sat bolt upright in surprise, bounced her head of the bottom of Norma’s mattress (again) and then climbed off her bunk, she stood up to face the prison officer.

“Yes,” sneered Mackay, the contempt in her voice plain for all to hear, “It’s a new directive from the European Court of Human Rights,” Mackay explained, “all female prisoners are entitled to one lesbian orgy per week!”

“But I'm not a lesbian, well, not really!” Buffy protested as Mackay stood there leering at her.

“That's why they call it prison!” Mackay replied scornfully, “Now stop arguing and get your towel and soap and follow me.”

Some little time later, Buffy found herself standing in a large shower room with a lot of naked women with only a bar of soap to cover her embarrassment. A figure slowly appeared out of the steam; it was the ‘cheese man’ he offered her a slice of cheese from the platter he was holding as he drifted by.

“Weird,” Buffy said quietly as she watched the little man disappear into the steam.

“Buffy?” Norma appeared out of the steam as the cheese man vanished.

“Y-yeah?” Buffy noticed that Norma was naked except for three strategically placed slices of cheese.

“Come on then,” Norma advanced on Buffy her arms wide open, “the sooner we start the sooner we'll finish and we can get back to our cells!”

Buffy woke up with a scream as the alarm bell started to sound and Norma began to shift about above her.

“What’s wrong with you?” Norma’s face appeared over the edge of the upper bunk and looked down at Buffy, she frowned. “You playin’ with y’self, or something? ‘Cause if you are, could you keep the noise down?”

“Bad dream,” Buffy admitted as she pushed back her blankets, “I’m fine now.”

“Good,” Norma jumped down from her bunk and stood for a moment stretching; glancing down at Buffy she smiled sympathetically, “start of a new week here at wonderful Slade nick and another day closer to our release date.”

0=0=0=0

Opening the great vat of soup, Buffy picked up a spoon about the size of a small oar and used it to stir the contents of the boiling vessel. Satisfied that the soup wasn’t sticking to the bottom of the giant saucepan, she picked up a smaller wooden spoon, collected a small sample of soup and tasted it before turning to face her friend, Janet McLaren.

“It lacks something, Janet,” Buffy shook her head as she put down the spoon, “according to the cook books this soup should have coriander, bay leaves and a dash of pepper,” Buffy explained and nodded to the table were a five kilo tin of pepper stood.

Catching Buffy’s, meaning, Janet turned and picked up the tin.

“Just a dash now,” Buffy cautioned; Janet emptied about half the pepper into the soup. “Yeah,” Buffy picked up her oar-like spoon again and started to stir, “that’s about right.”

Hearing an unfamiliar noise on the other side of the kitchen, Buffy was disappointed to see Miss Beal wheel her bicycle into the room and rest it against the wall.

“Naffin’ hell,” she breathed quietly as she drew Janet’s attention to the screw’s arrival. 

No one liked Miss Beal, particularly the younger inmates; Miss Beal was a new prison officer on her first posting, she’d arrived at Slade only a couple of weeks before and had already got herself a reputation as a complete dyke. The woman was taking advantage of her position of power over the inmates by subjecting the younger, prettier women to un-necessary body searches. Buffy had already fallen foul of Beal once; the woman seemed to take delight in humiliating the prisoners every chance she got. 

The last time Beal had searched Buffy she’d been very aware of how Beal’s hands would linger around her breasts or between her legs. Of course Beal was very careful, she never did anything when one of the older or more experienced screws was around. In fact whenever she carried out one of her ‘searches’ it was always done in a cell or an office, anywhere where she couldn’t be seen. Of course a prisoner could complain, but then it would be the screw’s word against the prisoner’s and this usually ended up with the prisoner having her privileges withdrawn or even ending up in solitary for a few days.

“Watch out,” Buffy whispered to Janet, “Queen Dyke is here.”

Watching out of the corner of her eye as the screw walked slowly around the kitchen, Buffy got on with her work. At the moment this entailed working her way along the line of huge boiling vessels and stirring the contents so it didn’t stick and burn. Moving along the row, Buffy heard a door open and close, she looked around to see Miss Appleton (the officer in charge of the kitchens) walk slowly into the room, she saw Beal standing by the bacon slicer and walked over to her.

“Miss Beal,” Appleton said as she walked up to the younger officer, “can I help you?”

“No thanks, Miss Appleton,” Beal replied pleasantly, “I had a little spare time and I’ve not been down here before, thought I’d look around a little.”

“Alright,” Miss Appleton conceded, “but mind you don’t get in the way.”

“Certainly not,” Beal agreed easily.

“Is that your bike?” Appleton glanced over to where Beal had left her bicycle.

“Yeah,” Beal nodded, “I took the precaution of bringing it inside.”

“Into this thieves’ kitchen?” Appleton sighed, “Think about it Miss Beal, do you really think that was wise?”

“Erm,” Miss Beal found herself unsure of what to say, “what would they want with it?”

“The Lord alone knows,” Miss Appleton explained with a shrug, “rob now, think later that’s their motto.”

Walking on, Appleton continued her patrol of the kitchen, after walking around for a moment she came up behind Buffy.

“What’s this, Summers?” Appleton gestured to the vat Buffy was at present stirring.

“Curry, Miss Appleton,” Buffy stood back from the vat so the screw could inspect the contents.

“Ah, curry,” Miss Appleton sniffed appreciatively as she bent over the bubbling browny-yellow mixture, “what sort of curry?”

“Meat,” Buffy replied truthfully.

“Yes I can see that,” Appleton gave Buffy a sharp look, “what sort of meat?”

“I don’t know, Miss, it didn’t say,” Buffy shrugged, “it just said ‘Tinned Meat’ on the tin.”

“Ladle,” Appleton held her hand out for a ladle; Janet picked up a spoon and passed it to the prison officer.

Bending over the steaming vat of ‘meat’ curry once more, Miss Appleton tasted a little off the spoon. For a moment she considered the culinary virtues of the curry before standing up straight and turning to face Buffy.

“Very good, Summers,” Miss Appleton conceded, “I can see you’re getting too good for this place, we’ll have to see about moving you somewhere else, the pig farm perhaps?”

Chuckling to herself, Appleton noticed the look of panic on Buffy’s face.

“Oh don’t worry, Summers, I’m not having you moved,” Appleton admitted, “just my little joke.” Appleton looked back at the curry, “It’s very acceptable as is, Summers, but if you take my advice I think it could do with just a touch more curry powder.”

Stepping even further away from the vat, Buffy looked at Janet.

“You heard Miss Appleton, McLaren,” Buffy winked at the Scot’s girl, “more curry powder.”

Turning towards the table again, Janet picked up another five kilo tin; this one proclaimed that it contained curry powder. Walking over to the vat she shook a cloud of powder into the air and over the curry. Safely out of the way, Buffy watched in amusement as Miss Appleton was engulfed in a cloud of curry powder and sneezed violently. As she sneezed her false teeth flew out of her mouth and landed in the curry. Quickly, Buffy picked up her stirring oar and pushed the teeth under the surface of the curry and started to stir vigorously. While Buffy stirred, Janet was making a big fuss around Appleton as she sneezed and the tears flooded from her eyes and ran down her face; she was dabbing ineffectually at the screw’s face with a piece of rag as Beal stormed over.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded as she passed behind Buffy.

“Been a slight accident, Miss,” Buffy informed her as she turned, stirrer in hand and smeared hot curry over the front of Beal’s clean, white blouse. “Oh! I’m so sorry Miss Beal!” Buffy exclaimed innocently as she managed to spread the curry down onto Beal’s skirt.

“Get off me!” Beal pushed Buffy away; just for a moment the look on Beal’s face told Buffy that she wanted to do so much more than just push her away.

Controlling her temper, Beal took Miss Appleton by the arm and led her over to the sinks so she could wash the curry powder from her face and eyes. As normality returned to the kitchen, Miss Appleton proclaimed herself to be fit enough to continue her shift. After admonishing Janet and telling her to be more careful with tins of curry powder in future she told Beal to go and get changed. Walking across the room, Beal came up behind Buffy and stopped, she leaned over so she could whisper in her ear.

“I’ll get you for that,” Beal said quietly.

“Don’t know what you mean, Miss Beal,” Buffy replied in wide-eyed innocence.

Just for a moment it looked as if Beal was going to do or say something she’d regret in front of another officer. But, she clenched her teeth and bit back the words that were about to spill out of her mouth. Collecting her bicycle she wheeled it outside; just as she’d mounted and was about to put her full weight on the saddle, the front wheel fell off. Staggering as she tried to keep her balance, the back wheel came adrift from the frame and the handle bars came away in her hand. It was obvious to her as she stumbled across the concrete yard outside the kitchen, that the prisoners had sabotaged her bike while she was distracted with helping Miss Appleton.

Looking down at the wreck of her bike, Beal knew exactly who was to blame for all this; it was clearly that American slut, Summers, she’d, no doubt, orchestrated the entire incident. Beal didn’t care how foolish Appleton had looked sneezing and coughing in a cloud of curry powder. What she cared about was that Summers had made her look stupid in front of the other prisoners and for that Summers would have to pay.

0=0=0=0

**Warning.** This section (in italics) is rated FR18 due to a depiction of a sexual assault. Readers may wish to miss this section out and go on to the next.

_“Summers,” Appleton called trying not to open her mouth too widely; she’d searched everywhere for her teeth but hadn’t been able to find them, they’d no doubt turn up some time, these things usually did. Until then she’d have to endure the smirks of the inmates, “Summers,” she called again only to see the short American woman appear in front of her a moment later._

_“Ah, Summers,” Appleton nodded to the prisoner, she might be short and slim but she was bloody strong for her size, “go to the store and get a couple of bags of rice.”_

_“Sure,” Buffy turned away from the officer and headed out the kitchen door towards the dry store where the sacks of rice were kept._

_Walking along the corridor that connected the storage area to the kitchen, Buffy heard a footfall on the linoleum behind her, glancing over her shoulder she saw Beal (in a clean uniform) standing in the doorway to the kitchen office._

_“Where are you going, Summers?” Beal wanted to know; Buffy stopped and turned to face the screw._

_“Miss Appleton told me to get the rice for the curry,” Buffy explained._

_“A likely story,” Beal scoffed._

_“But…” Buffy started to object._

_“You’re off to steal something aren’t you?” Beal stepped out into the corridor, “I know your sort Summers always got your eye open for the main chance, eh?”_

_“No!” Buffy complained as she pointed back towards the kitchen, “Ask Miss…”_

_“In the office!” Beal ordered and stepped aside to let Buffy pass; not having very much choice in the matter, Buffy obeyed._

_“Right, Summers,” Beal came into the office and closed the door behind her, “there’s too much pilfering going on around the kitchen and I think most of its being done by you.”_

_“No, Miss Beal I’d never…” Buffy started to try and talk her way out of this, if only Miss Appleton would walk down the corridor right now; but she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t risk leaving a dozen prisoners by themselves in a kitchen full of contraband._

_“Well,” smiled Beal, “if you’re not going to confess, I’m just going to have to search you.”_

_“You can’t,” Buffy felt something like panic start to rise in her chest, “you can’t search a prisoner without another officer being present.”_

_“Oh, a cellblock lawyer are we?” Beal was standing right behind Buffy now as she spoke sneeringly into her ear. “Well, I’ll decide what I can and cannot do…hands on your head!”_

_Knowing there was nothing she could do; Buffy resignedly put her hands on her head as Beal started to ‘search’ her. Gritting her teeth as the screw ran her hands slowly over her body, Buffy looked at her options. If she complained she’d probably end up shovelling shit up on the farm for six months. If she hit the evil bitch, that would mean she’d find herself in solitary for a week or more. Maybe she’d even get time added to her sentence, she’d certainly lose remission and that would make it harder for her friends to get her out; she’d just have to grit her teeth and endure it._

_“Okay,” Beal appeared in front of Buffy once more, “nothing in the obvious places.”_

_“Enjoy yourself did you?” Buffy couldn’t help but say something, she knew the best thing to do was to remain silent and wait for the bitch to finish having her fun, but she just couldn’t help herself._

_“Not as much as I’m going to,” Beal sniggered; she glanced around the office, “bend over the desk.”_

_“You what?” Buffy took an involuntary step away from Beal._

_“I said,” Beal pulled out her truncheon and waved it under Buffy’s nose, “bend-over-the-desk.”_

_The temptation to throw this woman into the corridor (via the wall) was almost too much to resist. But, if she did that, she might as well give up any thoughts of getting out of prison before her five years were up. Reluctantly, Buffy walked over to the table and bent over it. Holding on to the far side of the table, she felt Beal pull up the skirt of her ‘whites and tuck the hem into the belt around her waist._

_“You know something, Summers?” Beal asked conversationally._

_“I know you’re a naffin’ dyke-bitch…Miss,” Buffy replied sweetly._

_“What was that?” Beal asked as she rested her hand on Buffy’s buttock._

_“I’ve got an itch, Miss,” Buffy claimed._

_“Oh, we’ll see about scratching that later,” Beal replied huskily, “Now what was I saying…oh yes. You know these truncheons they issue us with?”_

_”Uh-huh,” Buffy nodded her head as she felt her panties being slowly pulled down until they fell around her ankles._

_“They’re really no use for what they were designed for,” Beal explained as she ran the tip of her truncheon up the back of Buffy’s thigh, “But I’ve thought of a much better use for it.”_

_“Hey,” Buffy said as her heart started to beat wildly, she really wanted to kill this bitch right now and hang the consequences; she felt the round end of the truncheon being pushed between her thighs, “you can’t do this!”_

_“But I can,” Beal informed her softly, “I can do whatever I want because you’re an inmate and I’m a Prison Officer, no one will ever believe a word you say.”_

_The truncheon moved slowly up Buffy’s inner thigh until it pressed against her vulva._

_“L-look,” Buffy stammered as she fought to stop herself from turning around and killing the screw, “look I’m having my period; you don’t want to get your stick all messy. Maybe we can do this some other time, eh?” She felt the end of the baton being rubbed against her as it slipped between the lips of her vagina._

_“Please don’t,” Buffy sobbed and hated herself for begging._

_“Oh don’t worry, Summers, you’ll enjoy this.” Beal mocked, “I can do lots of really interesting things with my ‘stick’.”_

_“Oh god,” Buffy whispered as she felt the truncheon being moved until she felt it being pushed between her butt cheeks and against her anus; gritting her teeth, she held on tightly to the edge of the table._

_“I bet your boyfriend liked to take you up the arse,” Beal whispered, her mouth only inches away from Buffy’s ear, “I bet he liked to hear you squeal like the little pig you are.”_

_“Ow!” Buffy cried out despite herself, as Beal pushed the tip of her baton into her anus; she promised heaven and earth that one day, somewhere, some how, she’d feed this bitch to a pack of hungry vamps._

_Feeling the tip of the truncheon slip further inside her, Buffy squirmed and found herself crying with a mixture of pain, anger and frustration._

_“But I bet you liked it too, didn’t you Summers?” Beal demanded as she breathed heavily into Buffy’s ear._

_“One day,” Buffy whispered through gritted teeth, “one dark night you’ll turn ‘round and find me standing there.”_

_“Oh dear,” Beal scoffed, “is that supposed to frighten me?”_

_“UUGH!” Buffy couldn’t help but cry out in pain as Beal rammed the end of her truncheon further into her anus; moments later, she was relieved to hear the door slam open._

_“WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE!?” Miss Mackay’s voice echoed around the little room; Buffy had never heard anything so beautiful in all her life._

_“Body cavity search, Miss Mackay,” Beal stood up and turned to face the senior officer, “I suspected Summers of pilfering.”_

_Mackay looked down to where Buffy was stretched out across the table with Beal’s truncheon still sticking out of her butt._

_“Interesting use of a baton, Miss Beal,” Mackay observed dryly._

_“Erm,” Beal hesitated for a moment, “I didn’t have any gloves with me, Miss Mackay.”_

_“I see,” Buffy heard Mackay take a deep breath, “did you really believe that you’d find a tin of pineapple chunks up there?”_

_“Um, no, Miss Mackay,” Beal replied uncertainly._

_“Well retrieve your truncheon, woman!” Mackay ordered; Beal reached for her baton, “And gently does it!” Mackay cautioned her._

_Signing with relief, Buffy felt the stick being pulled slowly from her rear; she stood up a little unsteadily as her whole body shook with the effects of adrenaline shock._

_“Right, Summers,” Mackay turned to look at Buffy noting the tears that trickled down her face, “you run along to the washroom and clean yourself up,” the officer ordered, not unkindly, “I’ll be wanting to talk to you later. In the mean time,” Mackay’s head turned towards Beal like the gun turrets of a battleship, “I’ll be having a little talk to Miss Beal here…” once again Mackay looked down at Buffy, “You still here? MOVE YOURSELF,” Mackay pointed at the door, “GO!”_

_Yanking up her panties and pulling down her skirt, Buffy fled from the office._

0=0=0=0

Almost running along the corridors, Buffy made it to the washrooms in record time. Going into one of the toilet stalls she pulled the door closed behind her and sat down; this was the closest she could get to privacy in prison. Sitting there listening to the water dripping from taps and the general gurgling of the plumbing, Buffy wondered why she’d not fought back. Knowing that she’d have probably ended up in worse trouble than she was in now didn’t help.

Knowing that she could have beaten Beal to a pulp easily and then just fought her way out of jail didn’t exactly calm her mind either. Okay she’d have had to spend the rest of her life on the run, probably in some sweaty little South American or African country with no extradition treaty with Britain. But surely that was preferable to letting that bitch rape her with her truncheon. Sniffing loudly, Buffy tore off a length of toilet paper and blew her nose. Tearing off another piece she wiped her eyes and took a few calming breaths. Having stopped shaking, she felt marginally better, standing up she pulled her panties up properly and straightened her dress. Flushing the used pieces of toilet paper away she prepared to face the world.

“Okay,” she told herself quietly, “no more playing the victim. From now on anyone who lays a finger on me gets what’s coming to them and to hell with the consequences.”

Opening the stall door, Buffy stepped out into the washroom only to find herself facing three of the largest, ugliest women she’d ever seen.

“Oh great,” Buffy sighed, “just what I need, the three ugly sisters.” Buffy smiled brightly at the three women, “Hi guys can I help you?”

“It’s nothing personal, Summers,” the leader of the pack stepped forwards as she cracked her tattooed knuckles loudly, “but we’ve got a message for you from Groutie.”

“Groutie couldn’t come and tell me herself?” Buffy’s friendly smile didn’t falter one little bit.

“Sorry, Summers,” the leader sounded genuinely sorry which surprised Buffy, “but she was busy and couldn’t find the time to deliver it in person.”

“Look,” said one of the other women, “if you don’t fight back, we’ll go easy on you. You’ll be out of hospital in a couple of day’s tops.”

“And we promise not to mark y’face,” said the third woman.

“Now that’s really nice of you,” Buffy explained, “but are you really sure you want to try this now? You see I’m having an aggressively bad day and it’s in my nature to fight back.”

Even as she said the words, Buffy knew it was a lie; she’d not fought back against Beal so why kid herself? Shaking her head, more in disgust at herself than at the three women standing in front of her, Buffy replaced her smile with a look as cold as winter.

“Okay,” Buffy brought up her fists as she balanced herself on the balls of her feet, “lets get this over with. I’ll try not to break any bones.”

What happened next could hardly be described as a fight. Firstly it was over in seconds, secondly, Groutie’s little messengers never managed to lay even one finger on Buffy. Thirdly…well there wasn’t really a thirdly, there’d not been time for a ‘thirdly’. Standing with her fists still up and hardly looking as if she’d even moved, Buffy glanced down at her assailants just as Mackay and two other prison officers burst into the washroom. Stepping away from the groaning bodies on the floor, Buffy raised her hands to show she wasn’t going to resist.

“Self-defence, Miss Mackay,” Buffy called as she wondered just how Mackay always managed to be there when trouble broke out, perhaps she was like a god, omnipresent.

“You again, Summers,” Mackay walked slowly across the room as she studied the three groaning women on the floor before turning to the other prison officers. “Miss Thompson, go fetch the MO please,” the screw ran off out of the door and down the corridor. “Miss Barrowclough, take Summers to my office and watch her would you? I’ll be along once I’ve dealt with these three.”

“Right you are, Miss Mackay,” Barrowclough stepped forward and took hold of Buffy’s arm, she looked at her sharply as she felt Buffy’s arm stiffen as she began to pull away, “Come along Summers,” Barrowclough said calmly, “we don’t want any of that kind of behaviour.”

“Sorry, Miss Barrowclough,” Buffy relaxed and let herself be led away.

0=0=0=0

“What am I going to do with you Summers?” Mackay asked as she strode into her office.

“It was self defence,” Buffy repeated.

“Aye, no doubt it was,” Mackay admitted, much to Buffy’s surprise: Mackay looked Buffy up and down, “I’ve heard tell you’re stronger than you look, but I don’t think you’d have willingly taken on those three unless you’d been forced into it. Anyway, they’re well known as trouble makers, so you won’t be getting into trouble over that.”

“Thank-you Miss Mackay,” Buffy replied more than a little stunned at Mackay’s moderate reaction.

“But, what am I going to do with you, Summers?” Mackay asked again as she shook her head slowly; Buffy thought the question was rhetorical so she kept her mouth shut.

“You’re not like the rest of them in here,” Mackay rested against her desk as she watched Buffy for any reaction, “you’re an educated woman, I’ve seen your records, you even went to college. Two thirds of the women in here are too stupid and ignorant to be honest, while the other third are intelligent but too arrogant to believe they’ll get caught. You’re neither arrogant, ignorant nor stupid.”

Mackay paused as she considered what she’d say next, Buffy remained quiet deciding to save anything she might want to say for later.

“I know Miss Barrowclough and I don’t usually agree in our attitudes to inmates,” Mackay said quietly, “but she assures me that you’re a model prisoner and I’m inclined to agree with her. You do your work conscientiously and you keep your nose clean…apart from some petty pilfering.”

Opening her mouth to deny any sort of wrong doing, Buffy was quickly silenced by a look from Mackay.

“Aye, I know all about the margarine,” Mackay gave a smile that disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, “and like you, I’ve no idea what Fitzsimons in ‘D’ Wing wanted with it.”

“So, because of Miss Barrowclough’s recommendation,” Mackay sighed, “and because of what happened to you earlier today, I won’t be hauling you up in front of the Governor and you won’t be losing any of your privileges or remission.” Mackay paused to take a breath, “I do, however, think I need to get you out of the wing for a couple of days, just until things quiet down a little.”

“Thank-you Miss Mackay,” Buffy breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

“Yes, there’s a nice little work detail staring up tomorrow,” Mackay smiled widely, “and just so you won’t feel lonely I’m sending along your friends Fletcher and McLaren…I don’t want anyone taking out their hurt feelings on them when they can’t get at you. So, when you’ve finished here go down to the stores and draw, overalls, Wellington boots and a donkey jacket.”

“Understood Miss Mackay,” Buffy wondered what a ‘donkey jacket’ was; perhaps they were going to a donkey sanctuary or something.

“Miss Barrowclough?” Mackay looked at the other officer who’d been standing by the door throughout the interview. “I wonder if you wouldn’t mind stepping outside for a moment. I need to say something of a confidential nature to Summers.”

“Of course, Miss Mackay,” Barrowclough stepped outside and disappeared from Buffy’s view.

Here it comes, thought Buffy, no doubt Mackay had sent Barrowclough out so she could threaten her so she wouldn’t talk about what Beal had done to her earlier. Standing just behind Buffy, Mackay brought her lips close to Buffy’s ear so they couldn’t be overheard.

“About that unfortunate incident with Miss Beal earlier today,” Mackay spoke so softly Buffy had to stain to hear her over the background noises of the nick. “Well, I had a quiet word with her and I expect you’ll be surprised to hear that she’s reconsidering her career in the Prison Service and will be leaving at the end of the month. Until then she’ll be on sick leave…it’s a crime how slippery the floors can get in the kitchen areas, if you know what I mean?” Buffy could hear the smile in Mackay’s voice, “Rest assured, Summers,” Mackay continued in her normal tone of voice, “that if I find anyone indulging in that sort of behaviour again they will regret the day they ever set foot inside Slade Prison, whoever they are, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Miss Mackay,” Buffy’s opinion of Mackay had just shot up a hundred fold.

“Now bugger off…” Mackay glanced at the floor for a second, “sorry,” she said quietly, “poor choice of words…” as suddenly as she’d changed into a caring human being, Mackay changed back to her normal unpleasant self, “now piss off!”

0=0=0=0


	7. Chapter 7

7.

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

“…once I knew what I was looking for,” Willow explained as she looked around at the gloomy faces of her friends, “I found traces of magic all over the place.”

“Why didn’t you spot it before?” Dawn asked from across the conference table; there was a slight hint of accusation in her voice.

“It was a pretty low level, elemental magic,” Willow replied miserably, “unless you knew it was there or at least suspected it was there you wouldn’t notice,” she tried to think of a better way of explaining, “It’s like a candle next to a spotlight or something, you don’t notice the extra light but its still there.”

“Indeed,” Giles agreed, “so what effect did this ‘elemental’ magic have?”

“Mostly it swung people’s opinions against Buffy,” Willow shrugged helplessly, “stopped them giving her the benefit of the doubt. It gave more weight to the evidence against her,” Willow paused and shook her head resignedly, “Even we started to doubt her…”

All around the table the Scoobies exchanged guilty looks; they all knew Willow was telling the truth.

“I’d like to bet,” Willow went on, “that if I could get into the court room, jury room and police station where the detectives on the case were based, I’d find charms or spells all over the place.”

“You mean they’re still working?” Xander asked.

“Yeah,” Willow nodded her head, “they’ll work for a few more weeks or months and then slowly fade away. The thing is all the ones I’ve found have been tailored to Buffy, so they wouldn’t affect anyone’s opinion of someone else.”

“So how did someone get into a camp full of slayers an' plant all that evidence in Buffy’s chalet?” Faith wanted to know.

“Best I can guess,” Willow turned to look at Dawn’s girlfriend, “they just walked in, hid the stuff and then walked out.”

“I think there’s a warning here for us all,” Giles looked up from the notepad in front of him, “our physical and magical defences have more holes in them than…than a piece of Swiss cheese. We’ve been relying on the fact that no one would be stupid enough to try to break into somewhere full of slayers. I think this present situation proves my point,” Giles glanced at Willow and Xander, “I suggest that once the present emergency is over with, Willow and Xander tighten things up…magical wards, CCTV’s and the like….Dawn, what have you found out?”

“Like,” Dawn rested her forearms on the table and leaned forward, “I totally managed to get a transcript of the trail and pass it on to Kennedy’s Dad’s lawyers. Unfortunately, they say the case against Buffy is airtight, they couldn’t find any loopholes to exploit and force a retrial,” Dawn paused as she shuffled the notes in front of her, “A lot of the evidence brought against Buffy was circumstantial, but knowing what I know now about all the magic. Added to the fact that Buffy couldn’t say what she was really doing on the nights the police claim she was breaking into people’s homes…well, it all added up to a pretty solid case,” Dawn sighed sadly, “As far as the legal options are concerned, I think our best bet is to wait for these spells to run down, find some new evidence and push for the case to be reinvestigated.”

“That could take months,” Faith pointed out, “even years.”

Looking at Faith, Giles realised she had a point; Buffy was in prison for five years, with luck she’d be out in three and a half maybe four at the most; she’d already served three months and seemed no worse for the experience. At what point did it stop being worth while trying to get her out? At what point did the time Buffy have left to serve make trying to prove her innocence pointless? After all, they all knew she was innocent and that was what mattered. It wasn’t as if someone would try to stop her being the slayer just because she’d been in prison.

“Alright,” Giles continued to look at Faith, “let’s have your report.”

“Kennie?” Faith looked at Kennedy and gestured for her to take the floor.

Reaching across the table, Kennedy picked up the remote control, pressed a few buttons and waited for the curtains to close, the screen at the far end of the room to deploy and the slide projector to switch on. The first photograph to be displayed, as the lights dimmed, was a general view of Slade Prison; Kennedy stood up and walked towards the screen.

“First,” Kennedy began, “Faith and myself have brought Maggie,” Kennedy referred to one of the slayer instructors who lived on the camp, “onto our team. As you probably know she used to be in the army…”

“Yeah,” Faith interrupted, “she was in some really cool air service regiment or something, anyway she said it was special so she knows stuff we don’t.”

“Faith’s right,” Kennedy pointed out, “Maggie has expertise that might come in useful.”

“What sort of ‘expertise’?” Giles asked.

“She knows how to blow stuff up,” Faith replied with a grin.

“As you can see,” Kennedy pointed at the picture of the prison, “Slade is a typical Victorian jail. It was built out in the wilds of what is now Cumbria and the nearest town of any size is Carlisle which is about twenty miles away.”

The picture on the screen changed to show another view of the prison.

“While the walls look impressive it must be remembered that they’re designed to keep people in rather than keep people out. Maggie assures us it would be easy enough to blow a hole in the wall or climb over it.”

“I really don’t think…” Giles cut in but was silenced by a look from Faith.

“This would be option one, and we think the least likely to work out,” Kennedy continued ignoring Giles’ interjection, “Firstly we’ve no real idea where Buffy is being held inside the prison. While I’m certain that a team of slayers led by Faith or myself would find her eventually, casualties amongst the prison staff and any reaction force set to the prison would be high.”

“Casualties?” Willow asked fearfully.

“While we’d try to keep ‘civilian’ casualties to a minimum,” Kennedy said quietly, “I’m afraid on any mission like this they’d be inevitable. There’s also the possibility that inmates who could be a real threat to society might escape while we’re getting Buffy out.”

“That’s option one?” Xander asked, “I hope option two is better.”

“Right-on,” Kennedy forwarded the slides to show a map of the area around Slade prison. “Option two; we try to get the authorities to move Buffy to a new prison and ambush the transport taking her there. Again this could end up with high civilian casualties and the authorities might not play ball by just not moving her.”

“Jeez,” breathed Xander quietly from down the table.

“Option three is our best bet,” Kennedy turned away from the map to look down the table, “there’s less chance of anything going wrong, we can control when it happens to within a few hours and civilian casualties can be kept to a bare minimum.”

“And this is?” Giles lifted an eyebrow.

“We get Dawn to slip Buffy a drug or charm during her next visit,” Kennedy started to pace across the room, “this drug or charm would mimic some very serious medical emergency that the prison hospital wouldn’t be able to deal with. This would force the prison authorities to send her to Carlisle hospital, that’s the nearest one to the prison. Once there Faith and myself can put on white doctor’s coats, calmly walk into the hospital, snatch Buffy, put her into the back of our very own ambulance and be gone before anyone knows something’s wrong…of course the details are more complicated than that but that’s it in a nutshell.”

For a moment there was stunned silence in the room until Giles coughed and cleared his throat.

“As much as it pains me to say it,” he pointed out, “that does sound like the best idea so far. Willow,” Giles turned his head to look at the witch, “could you mix up something that mimics something very serious and really unpleasant; we’d want the prison authorities to panic and move her quickly.”

“Sure,” Willow nodded, “if I could go see Buffy with Dawn, I could put a spell on her that would look like any one of a hundred really horrible diseases.”

“But she wouldn’t be really sick?” Dawn asked hurriedly.

“Oh,” Willow admitted, “she’d have to be a little sick to make it look convincing but it wouldn’t harm her and I’d make it so she’d get better naturally as the spell wore off if we couldn’t get her out.”

“Well,” Giles looked up and down the table, “unless anyone has a better idea I think we’ll go with option three.” Giles waited for someone to put forward a better plan but only heard silence, “Right then,” he turned to face Kennedy and Faith, “I want you to start planning the…erm…mission in detail. Work with Willow and Maggie but don’t put anything in motion until we’ve all met again.”

“Hey guys,” Dawn called, “lets get this right, eh? Remember every day we waste Buffy is totally stuck in jail.”

“Indeed,” Giles nodded his agreement, “unless there’s any other business I suggest we adjourn until the same time next week.”

0=0=0=0

As the meeting broke up, Xander found his way over to Giles.

“Hey, Giles!” he called getting the older man’s attention.

“Xander,” Giles smiled, “what can I do for you?”

“Here,” Xander gestured for Giles to join him over by the windows, “I need to talk to you.”

“What’s wrong,” Giles noticed the look of concern on Xander’s face.

“Look,” Xander shook his head and looked down at his feet, whatever was on his mind was really troubling him, “I can’t do this any more.”

”I’m sorry,” Giles gave him a puzzled look, “what can’t you do?”

“Look, Giles,” Xander tried to keep the note of pleading from his voice, “I want to help Buffy as much as the next guy, but helping out is cutting into my time too much.”

“I…” Giles frowned trying to fathom out what Xander wanted, “...I’m not sure I understand.”

“Look,” Xander replied helplessly, “I’m not on the payroll, I have to work for a living and helping Dawn means I’m having to turn down jobs so I don’t get paid. As much as I want to help Buffy I also like those little luxuries like having a place to live and food to eat.”

“Oh I see,” Giles pondered the problem.

“Unless you can put me on the payroll, I’m sorry, Giles, but I’m gonna have to sit this one out,” Xander explain sadly. “Its not as if I was doing anything useful, its mostly Dawn doing the research stuff…give me a window to fix after a vamp’s been thrown through it and I’m your man. But this research stuff,” Xander sighed sadly, “not so much.”

“Quite so,” Giles said quietly before looking into Xander’s eye to see the real sorrow and regret that he was feeling at letting down a friend, “I quite understand, you must do what you believe is best. I think we all take it for granted that you’re there whenever we need your help and we don’t realise you have your own problems and a life to lead.” Giles patted Xander on the shoulder in a fatherly way, “you go on, I’ll explain it to Dawn.”

“Thanks Giles,” Xander sounded relieved, “you don’t know how difficult that was to say,” Xander started to back away and head towards the door, “don’t forget, any time you want a window replacing…”

0=0=0=0

“Hey Kennie,” Faith called as she rushed to catch up with Willow and Kennedy who were making their way towards the car park. “Mind if I borrow ya girlfriend for a while, Red?” 

“Sure,” replied Willow with a grin, “as long as you bring her back undamaged,” Willow turned to Kennedy, “I’ll wait for you in the car, okay?”

“Kennie,” Faith glanced up and down the corridor, what she wanted to say was private between the two slayers, “that was a real cool briefing ya gave, even I understood what you were talking about.”

“Yeah,” Kennedy nodded, “you should, you helped with a lot of it.”

“Only to have my ideas shot down,” Faith pointed out.

“But that’s still important,” Kennedy explained, she liked Faith and didn’t want to upset her (and one day she wanted to take Faith home to terrify her stepmother), “so what do you want?”

“Look,” the two women started to walk slowly down the corridor, “its not that it ain’t been fun working with ya but I’m more action girl than planning girl.” Faith shrugged miserably, “its you an’ Maggie doin’ most of the work, I’m sorta getting the coffee and doughnuts…”

”Which is really important,” Kennedy pointed out with a grin, “and any way it was tea and buns.”

“Ya know what I mean,” Faith replied pointedly, “but, I’ve got all this other stuff to do. Y’know pick up the slack while B’s in the ‘Big House’.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you don’t want to work on this anymore?” Kennedy asked slowly.

“Not so much ‘don’t want to’,” Faith fidgeted guiltily as she spoke, “more, I’ve got other stuff that needs doing, y’know? And anyway, do you really think ‘watcher-guy’ is gonna give the ‘okay’ on this?”

“Cool,” Kennedy said brightly.

“What?” Faith frowned at the other woman, “What ya mean ‘cool’?”

“More kudos for me when its my plan that frees Buffy,” Kennedy smiled broadly, “she’ll never be able to live with herself when she realises that it was my plan that freed her.”

“You’re a real bitch, you know that don’t ya?” Faith said without malice.

“Never made a secret of it,” Kennedy pointed out with a grin, “it was the way I was brought up…but you’re a buddy so, I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks!” Faith gave Kennedy a quick kiss on the cheek, which she later thought was most unlike her, it must be Dawn’s influence. “Anytime you an’ Magz need any help, just call, okay?” Faith started to walk back down the corridor towards what had been Buffy’s office and was now hers, “An' don’t forget I wanna be in on the rescue, right?”

“No problem,” Kennedy smiled to herself at the thought of having something on Buffy for the rest of her life, “now,” Kennedy looked around the car park but couldn’t see Willow, “where’s Willow disappeared to?”

0=0=0=0

“Willow,” Giles caught up with Willow just as she was about to step outside, “I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes?”

“I was just going to wait for Kennedy in the car,” Willow pointed out.

“Won’t take long,” Giles reassured her, “in my office?”

“Okay,” Willow relented, “I ‘spect Kennie can find me, she usually does, some times I think she has magic powers that let her find her wayward girlfriend anytime she wants.”

“You really think that?” Giles asked in all seriousness; a slayer with magic powers would be most unusual.

“Not really,” Willow’s eyebrows came together as she looked at the floor, “but it would explain some stuff.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Giles opened the door to his office to let Willow precede him into the room, “I expect she can smell you…slayer senses, you know.”

“Eww, Giles,” Willow smiled as she sat down in the easy chair in front of Giles’ desk, “that’s gross.” 

“Well,” Giles sat down in his own leather swivel chair, “I wanted to talk to you alone.”

Over the years Giles had found that Willow was a useful sounding board. Not only was she his intellectual equal (superior in some fields he was willing to admit) she’d also matured more than some of the others over the years.

“This sounds serious,” Willow watched Giles for any clue as to what he wanted to talk to her about.

“All these spells directed at Buffy,” Giles rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, “have you given any thought as to who might have cast them?”

“As it happens, yes I have,” Willow replied as she settled back in her own chair.

“And?” Giles prompted.

“Well,” Willow took a deep breath, “like I say, taken individually all the spells could have been cast by almost anyone, they really didn’t use any power from the caster to make them work. But,” Willow cut Giles off before he had a chance to speak, “taken all together the practitioner must have been more than averagely powerful or experienced, like if they didn’t have the power or resources to do it themselves they knew which gods and demons to contact.”

“I see,” Giles nodded his head, “anyone in mind?”

“Well,” Willow thought about this for a moment or two, “I did think Amy Madison, this is about her skill level, but as far as we know she’s still in that alternate reality with the zombies.”

“Indeed,” Giles shifted uncomfortably, he still didn’t feel happy about casting someone (whatever they’d tried to do) into a world that was infested with zombies.

“But I think this was all too well put together for Amy,” Willow pointed out, “you know Amy’s plans tended to be overly complicated and she used to go off at half cock. Then when she saw things were going wrong she’d try to cut her losses and run making an even worse hash of things. No, I don’t think this was Amy’s doing, this was someone older, someone more willing to take a long time to plan and leave no trace and why are you looking like that, Giles? I didn’t do it!”

“I know you didn’t,” Giles said slowly, “but I think I know who did.”

“Who?” Willow demanded, “Come on Giles spill!”

“Ethan Rayne,” Giles replied simply, “this is just the sort of thing he’d love.”

“Ethan Rayne?” Willow could see how Giles might think this, “But he’s locked up in the States…isn’t he?”

“As far as we know, yes,” agreed Giles, “but lets look at the facts. Ethan loves to spread Chaos, yes?”

“Right,” Willow nodded.

“So how much chaos do you think he could cause by taking out Buffy as head of the Slayer Organisation?” Giles pointed out.

“Well,” Willow shrugged, “a couple of years ago, quite a bit. Now, not so much.”

“Right,” Giles pointed his finger at Willow as he warmed to his subject, “now we’re organised we have people to step into place if anything should happen to one of us. Things wouldn’t be the same for a while but the organisation wouldn’t collapse, but of course Ethan wouldn’t know that.”

“Right,” Willow nodded her head slowly as she thought through how she’d have done what it was beginning to look like Ethan Rayne had done. “With the slayers disorganised all sorts of chaos could have bubbled to the…OHMYGODDESS!”

“What!” Giles looked up and around in worry, “Willow what’s wrong?”

“I just thought,” Willow gasped, “the whole ‘Night of the Lesbians’ thing, you don’t think…?”

“What?” Giles stared at Willow aghast, “You think Ethan had something to do with that?”

“Think about it Giles,” Willow slapped her forehead with her hand, “everything fits.”

“What fits?” Giles demanded, “Explain.”

“Look,” Willow tried to keep her voice calm, “remember how it took me ages to find out it was magic that caused everyone to change?” Giles nodded his head, “Well,” Willow continued, “that was because it was a low powered spell that was hard to detect.”

“But surely…” Giles began but was again cut off by Willow.

“There’s a school of thought that says that female sexual orientation isn’t as hard wired as male orientation is, so…” Willow let her question hang for a moment before completing her thought, “...it wouldn’t take much to push all the slayers over the edge to my way of thinking. The difficult bit would be making it happen all over the world at more or less the same time.”

“My god,” Giles took off his glasses and started to polish, “I say, you don’t think that Dawn and Faith’s sudden and unexpected conversion to…”

“Why not?” Willow asked, “It could have been a dry run to see if the spells would work…and if I was distracted by the lesbian thing…”

“You might not notice everything else that was going on,” Giles slowly replaced his glasses, “Good grief.”

“I think we have a theory,” Willow pointed out, “time to prove it.”

“Indeed,” Giles agreed, “first we must find out if Ethan is on the loose again.”

“Then if he is,” Willow said slowly, “we’ll need to track him down. If we can get him to reverse the spells that might go a long way to getting Buffy out of jail.”

“But didn’t you say the spells were running down anyway?” Giles pointed out.

“I did,” Willow concurred, “but people will still be prejudiced against her, if we can get the spells reversed, people might see they’d made a mistake or something.”

“I see,” Giles replied.

“Look its gotta be better than trying to snatch Buffy from a hospital.”

“Indeed,” Giles said once more.

0=0=0=0


	8. Chapter 8

8.

**Bassenthwaite Lake, The Lake District, Cumbria.**

Lightning flashed cutting through the darkness as thunder rumbled down the valley bouncing from peak to peak. Lashed to a frenzy as rain and wind swept across the normally placid Bassenthwaite Lake the water rose to roll uneasily under the tortured sky. Down on the lake shore near a dilapidated National Trust picnic area stood a lonely tent that trembled under the assault of wind and rain. In the darkness of the night, only occasionally illuminated by the fitful lightning, a solitary figure moved around the tent. Stooping at the front of the shelter the figure bent to unzip the flap that would allow it access to the little oasis of calm within, as the figure crawled into the tent a woman’s scream split the night.

“AAAAGH!” screamed Sarah Ollerenshaw as her boyfriend, Peter Crawford crawled into the tent, “Careful, you’re dripping rain all over the place.

“What do you expect,” Peter replied crossly, “it’s coming down in buckets out there.”

“Well,” Sarah moved her legs and pulled the sleeping bag out of the way as Peter started to take off his waterproofs, “be more careful.”

“It may have escaped your notice,” Peter snapped, “but this blasted tent is only so big, so budge up and let me get undressed.”

The holiday had not turned out well; Sarah and Peter, both keen ramblers had decided to take a week off from their jobs in Manchester and take a walking tour of this part of the Lake District. All had been going well enough as they’d walked through Keswick and they ate bars of the famous Kendall Mint Cake. The early summer sun had shone down on them, the birds sang in the hedgerows and bright summer flowers danced in the breeze. They were only a few miles from Keswick when it started to rain. Unperturbed they’d got out their wet weather gear and walked on.

As the afternoon had progressed the rain got progressively heavier until they’d been forced to stop and pitch their tent. On the map the place they’d stopped at was marked as a National Trust picnic area and visitor’s centre. What it actually was, was an area of muddy gravel, a few broken down picnic tables and a lot of rubbish. Just inside the woods that surrounded the shore side picnic site they found the ‘Visitor’s Centre’ which turned out to be an old Portacabin with heavy steel shutters padlocked over its doors and windows.

Unable to gain access to the visitor’s centre and not liking the look of the picnic area; the young couple moved on a little further until the were under the shelter of some trees near the lake side. Pitching their tent they’d just had enough time to cook a meal before the storm really hit home. The wind got stronger and the rain, already heavy, started to come down in torrents.

Hanging his wet waterproofs up at the entrance end of the tent, Peter crawled over to where his girlfriend sat huddled up in their sleeping bag.

“I’m sorry I snapped, luv,” Peter said apologetically, “it’s the weather.”

“Yeah,” Sarah moved her legs to let Peter get into the sleeping bag, “I’m sorry too, here,” she shifted around as Peter climbed in beside her, she shivered as his cold skin touched hers. “Hey! You’re freezing, here let me warm you up.”

Snuggling down into the warm embrace of their sleeping bag the two youngsters sighed contentedly as they held each other close.

“I think we might as well head for home tomorrow if this weather continues,” Peter murmured as he nuzzled Sarah’s neck.

“Yeah,” Sarah sighed, “might as well, pity though,” she shifted closer to Peter and kissed him slowly on the lips, “I was just beginning to get used to this.”

Giggling wantonly, Sarah allowed herself to be pushed onto her back as Peter kissed her lips and stroked the soft, velvety smoothness of her breast. The young couple, who both still lived with their respective parents, had little chance to be intimate at home. Their regular forays into the English countryside gave them an opportunity, otherwise denied them, to enjoy each others bodies.

Lying in each others arms after their bout of love making, Sarah and Peter drifted off into a contented sleep. Lulled into unconsciousness by the rain that beat a steady tattoo on their tent they never heard the strange gurgling noise coming from the direction of the lake. Nor did they notice the odd fishy smell and the sound of footsteps slowly approaching their shelter until it was far too late.

0=0=0=0

“Bleedin’ unnatural's what I call it,” complained Norma as she climbed out of the back of the prison minibus.

“What’s that?” Buffy asked, she was already standing on the wet gravel drinking in the sunshine and the air that didn’t smell of drains, cabbage and five hundred women locked up in close confinement.

“This,” Norma gestured miserably at the majestic Lake District countryside, “I bet there’s not a pub or hairdressers for naffin’ miles.”

It had taken them just over forty-five minutes to be driven from Slade Prison to the shore of Bassenthwaite Lake. The air was clear and fresh as the sun shone down between fluffy clouds that sailed across the sky like huge white galleons. There was a fresh wind coming down the valley from the north but Buffy felt snug enough in her Wellington boots and donkey jacket. Taking the woolly hat she’d been issued with and putting it on her head, she continued to drink in the freedom all around her. The gravel that she was standing on and where the minibus was parked; was part of an area of graded gravel that stretched from the wood behind her to the tiny strip of sand and shingle at the lakeside. The parking lot, or whatever it was, had obviously seen better days. Over by the lakeside were two or three broken down wooden picnic tables. Here and there old bike frames, tyres and shopping trolleys stuck forlornly out of the grass or lay between the trees. Plastic bags blew about in the breeze and soggy cigarette ends were mixed in with the wet gravel. Next to the wood on the side of the gravelled area furthest away from the lake was a green painted rectangular hut with steel shutters over its doors and windows.

“Come on Summers,” Miss Barrowclough called from the rear of the van, “stop lollygagging about and lend a hand.”

Turning, Buffy walked reluctantly back towards the minibus and helped take the tools from the van and rest them against the green painted hut. After completing this task she stood around with the other prisoners of the work detail and waited for Miss Mackay and Miss Barrowclough to finish their whispered conversation.

“Just our luck,” muttered Sadie a young woman in her mid-twenties doing a two year stretch for soliciting.

“What’s that?” Buffy replied quietly.

“Having Mackay on this detail,” Sadie spat onto the ground, “we’ll not be able to get away with anyfink with ‘er ‘ere.”

“Oh,” Buffy shrugged under her jacket, “Mackay’s not so bad.”

“You what?” Sadie looked at her as if she were mad, “You’re not sleepin’ wiv’ ‘ere are ya? Not givin’ ‘er a happy while no one’s lookin’?”

“Look,” Buffy pursed her lips, “I’m just saying, Mackay’s not that bad…not like some of the screws.”

“Oh!” Sadie turned to Buffy and looked her up and down, “Ya mean ‘er getting’ rid of that Beal bitch?”

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded her head but said nothing more; Prison Officer Beal had been disliked though out Slade Prison and her departure had been celebrated by prison staff and inmates alike; Buffy had her own reasons to be glad to see the back of the woman.

“I ‘spose you’re right,” Sadie conceded just as Mackay and Barrowclough turned to face the six women of the work crew.

“Right, you lucky ladies!” Mackay smiled as she rubbed her gloved hands together and ran her eye over the short, untidy line of prisoners. “The National Trust, in its wisdom, has asked us to clear up this area and make it fit for decent folk. As most of you wouldn’t know what ‘decent’ is, Miss Barrowclough and myself are here to instruct you.” Mackay glanced over at her fellow prison officer and smiled crookedly. “There will be no shirking, no gossiping and no wandering off into the woods for a quick fag.” Mackay stopped talking and gave each prisoner a hard look, “And if any of you are entertaining any notions about making a bid for freedom, let me remind you that there is nothing but ten miles of rough country and bogs between here and the nearest main road.”

Letting that sink in for a moment Mackay paused before continuing, “Breaks will start and finish when I say so and not whenever you think you can get away with it. If you need to use the toilet facilities,” Mackay pointed to a path that led into the wood, “you can use the Portaloo next to the new visitor’s centre down there.”

“That’s nice,” observed Norma quietly, “a real live portaloo…no doubt its not been emptied in weeks, it’ll be full to overflowing and there’ll be no bog paper.”

“If you do need to ‘powder your nose’,” Mackay continued with a humourless chuckle, “you will report to either myself or Miss Barrowclough before and after your visit and you will spend no longer than five minutes on each visit.”

“Just as well none of us is constipated,” Norma observed wryly.

“Now before I give you your work assignments,” Mackay stood with her hands behind her back as she rocked gently back and forth on her feet, “are there any questions?”

Norma raised her hand.

“I should have guessed,” sighed Mackay, “what is it Fletcher?”

“I was just wondrin’, Miss Mackay,” Norma looked left and right at her fellow inmates, “should the ball and chain be worn inside or outside the Wellington boot?”

“That’s enough of that, Fletcher,” Mackay snapped, “now are there any sensible questions?”

“What time do we finish?” a prisoner called Walker from ‘A’ Wing asked.

“When I say so, Walker,” Mackay replied sharply before adding “Right then, enough of this time wasting, there’s work to be done.”

0=0=0=0

Finding herself paired up with the woman from ‘A’ Wing, Buffy collected a rake and a handful of black plastic rubbish sacks from the pile of supplies next to the green hut.

“Right, Summers,” Miss Barrowclough looked down at Buffy and smiled pensively, “I want you and Walker to work your way along the edge of the woods there.” Miss Barrowclough pointed vaguely to the edge of the woods to the north of the gravelled area. “I want you to clear up all the litter you can find and put it in your sacks, anything bigger can be thrown into the skip by the new visitor’s centre, do you understand?”

“I think we can manage that,” replied Walker, “if we get confused I’m sure you’ll show us how its done.”

“That’ll be enough of that, Walker,” Miss Barrowclough frowned at the other woman, “now don’t go too far into the woods, as long as you can still see the car park here that should be far enough.”

Buffy and Lillian Walker stood there looking at Miss Barrowclough expectantly.

“Well then,” Miss Barrowclough gave them a puzzled frown, “what are you waiting for? Get on with your work and no slacking.”

“You have to feel sorry for her really,” observed Walker as she and Buffy walked into the woods and slowly started to pick up litter, “she’s not really cut out for this type of work.”

“I hear tell,” Buffy picked up a plastic supermarket carrier bag and stuffed it in her sack, “her husband messes around with other women while she’s on nights but won’t give her a divorce.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Walker leaned against a tree and searched in her pockets for a cigarette and a light, “hang on here awhile, we’re deep enough in the woods so no one can see us.”

Standing up straight, Buffy looked around, the car park was only just visible through the trees.

“Lillian Walker,” Lillian held her hand out to Buffy as she puffed her roll-up into life.

“Buffy Summers,” Buffy replied shaking the woman’s hand.

“You’re the American girl,” aren’t you?” Lillian regarded Buffy carefully; “The one who knocked Groutie’s goons about, right?”

“That’s me,” Buffy smiled resignedly, news really did travel fast in jail, “I do what I can.”

“Rather you than me,” admitted Lillian, “anyway they call me Lil, a-k-a Light Fingered Lil, a cliché I know but that’s the way it goes. I’m doing four years for shoplifting.”

“That sounds harsh,” Buffy absently snatched a fly that had been annoying her out of the air, “Four years just for shoplifting.”

“Not when you’re caught on Oxford Street with six thousand pounds worth of unpaid for shopping about your person,” Lil remarked with a smirk. “I think that’s very reasonable, particularly when they found another twenty-five-thousand pounds worth of jewellery in my flat that I couldn’t show them receipts for.”

“Gotta say, Lil,” Buffy glanced towards the car park to check no one was watching them, “you don’t sound like your average shoplifter.”

“You’re right,” Lil agreed with a shrug, “seven GCSE’s and two ‘A’ levels,” she explained, “didn’t like any of the jobs I got after leaving school so I turned to a life of crime, done quiet well at it too.”

“But you’re in jail,” Buffy pointed out the obvious.

“Well, you see,” Lil smiled conspiratorially, “first time they’ve managed to put me inside, see? I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Oh!” Buffy didn’t really know what to say, she caught sight of something behind a tree half hidden by a clump of long grass. “Hey look,” she pointed, “an old bike or something. Give me a hand moving it and we can go check out this visitor’s centre.”

“Right you are,” Lil crushed her cigarette out under her foot and walked with Buffy over to the derelict bike.

Heaving on the frame together they pulled it free of the grass and roots that’d grown over it before carrying it back towards the car park. Of course Buffy could have easily moved it by herself and although she’d acquired a reputation for being stronger than she looked it was best not to over do things; people (like the Governor) might start to ask questions.

0=0=0=0

Lifting the dilapidated bicycle the two women heaved it into the skip. Dusting off her safety gloves, Buffy turned to look at the almost completed visitor’s center which was being built just off the track that lead to the car park. To her untutored eye it looked like the National Trust was having a much older building converted to its needs. The doors and windows were firmly locked and anyway Buffy couldn’t see anything inside worth the effort of breaking in for.

“Nothing interesting,” Buffy announced as she felt Lil come up behind her.

“Pity,” Lil joined Buffy in peering through the windows, “nothing useful out here either,” Lil gestured to all the building site clutter that lay around on the ground. “Look,” Lil glanced at Buffy, “I’m going to try out the loo, keep a look out, eh?”

“Sure,” Buffy agreed wondering what she was keeping a look out for, “no problem.”

Watching as Lil walked over to the portaloo, Buffy stared off through the trees and felt just how lonely it was out here. As they’d driven here on the main road, she’d caught glimpses of small stone built villages that looked as if there’d been there since the dawn of time. Once they’d turned off the main road (really little more than a wide lane) the minibus had bounced down a muddy track for five minutes until it reached the parking lot by the lake; Buffy suspected that they were about as isolated as you could get in Britain. Hearing retching noises coming from the portaloo, Buffy looked in that direction to see Lil stumble from the door of the phone-box-like structure looking very ill.

“You okay?” Buffy asked and hurried over to help her new friend.

“Oh god!” gasped Lil as she hung onto Buffy’s arm, “Whatever you do, don’t go in there!”

“Why?” Buffy asked alarmed thinking there might be some terrible monster hidden inside the toilet.

“You know what your friend said about the ‘facilities’?” Lil let go of Buffy’s arm and started to look a little less green.

“Yeah,” Buffy nodded her head uneasily.

“Well, she was right,” Lil was almost fully recovered from her momentary distress, “only more so.”

“Oh gross!” Buffy gave the portaloo a worried glance, “So where do we…?”

“I hope you were a Girl Guide or whatever they have in the States,” Lil explained, “but it looks like we’re going to be squatting in the woods.”

“Oh,” Buffy repeated, “totally gross.”

Before either woman could fully come to grips with the prospect of having to do what the bears did in the woods, a cry of hurt and pain came from the direction of the lake.

“Come on,” Buffy patted Lil on the shoulder, “we better see what’s going on.”

“Why?” Lil asked as she trotted down the path after Buffy, “It might be dangerous.”

Reaching the picnic area first, Buffy saw the prisoners huddled around Mackay who was kneeling over a figure lying on the muddy ground. A thin wail of hurt rose from the middle of the crowd and Buffy pushed herself to the front to see what was going on. Lying on the ground was Harris, an unpleasant woman in her early twenties. The story went that she’d been caught trying to steal some granny’s pension. However, the granny had turned on her attacker and hit her with her handbag (which wouldn’t have been too bad if it wasn’t for the half house brick the old lady carried). The police had arrived to find the old lady sitting on Harris’ chest and giving her a lecture on respecting her elders. At the moment, Harris was again lying on the ground, this time she was clutching her arm and moaning loudly as blood oozed from between her fingers.

“What happened?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Och,” Janet McLaren spat onto the gravel in disgust, “that silly bitch gashed 'er arm open on a piece ay glass.”

“Seriously?” Buffy asked hopefully, like the other Slade inmates she didn’t like Harris; she was like a young Cordelia but without the redeeming qualities; in fact, Buffy reconsidered, on second thoughts Harris was nothing like Cordelia.

“Nae serioosly enough,” tutted McLaren.

“Stand aside, there.”

Looking over her shoulder, Buffy saw Miss Barrowclough hurry over clutching the first aid box from the minibus in her hands. Reluctantly, Buffy and the other prisoners moved to let the screw through.

“Oh-well,” Buffy sighed, “if she’d not going to bleed to death we might as well get back to work.”

Taking the hint, the little huddle of prisoners slowly broke up and went back to work.

0=0=0=0


	9. Chapter 9

8A

**Bassenthwaite Lake, The Lake District, Cumbria.**

It only seemed like five minutes had passed when Buffy heard a screw’s whistle being blown, she looked at Lil questioningly only to get a puzzled shrug in answer. Dumping their rubbish sacks under the trees they sauntered back to the picnic area. As they came from between the trees and up onto the gravel they saw the minibus disappear down the track towards the main road and Miss Barrowclough standing in the middle of the car park.

“Come on you lot!” Miss Barrowclough called as the prisoners gathered reluctantly around her. “As you probably saw,” Barrowclough began, “Miss Mackay has had to take Harris off to hospital…”

“Nothing trivial we hope, Miss Barrowclough,” Fletcher’s voice came from out of the small crowd.

“Now, that’s enough of that, Fletcher,” Barrowclough said as sharply as she could manage (which was about butter knife sharp), “Harris has a nasty gash on her arm…”

There was a chorus of unconvincing exclamations of sympathy from the prisoners for Harris’ injury.

“Now, now,” Miss Barrowclough made patting gestures in the air, “we’ll have no more of that, Harris will need several stitches.”

“Guid,” called a Scottish voice that sounded awfully like Janet.

“Now as you can see,” Miss Barrowclough chose to ignore the latest interruption, “there’s only me left to look after you until Miss Mackay gets back. So until she does,” Miss Barrowclough gave the prisoners a worried look, “and I expect her back at almost any moment, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go wandering off…”

The prisoners immediately turned and wandered off towards the new picnic tables that Norma and Sadie had been building.

“Hey!” Miss Barrowclough called as she followed the prisoners uncertainly towards the tables, “Where’d you think you’re going?”

“Ah, well you see, Miss Barrowclough,” Norma turned and smiled happily at the prison officer, “after seeing one of our oppo’s so tragically injured like that,” Fletcher shook her head sadly, “I’m afraid we’re all in shock.”

“But none of you like Harris,” Miss Barrowclough pointed out reasonably.

“Even so,” Fletcher continued undaunted, “an appalling accident like that could play on someone’s mind and before you know it they’ve got themselves hurt and you without any back up and no way of calling for help,” Fletcher happened to know that you couldn’t get a mobile phone signal down in this valley. “I mean,” Fletcher continued understandingly, “questions could be asked about your abilities if another inmate was to be hurt on your watch,” Fletcher watched Barrowclough’s face as the doubt and uncertainty played on the screw’s mind, “if you see what I mean?”

“Yes,” Barrowclough agreed vaguely, “I never thought of that, thank-you Fletcher,” she paused for a moment before speaking again; when she did it was with all the determination of someone who’d been told what to do. “Of course you’re right Fletcher, it’s probably best if we all took a moment to recover from the shock, you know…”

“Cup of tea would be nice,” Fletcher said hopefully.

“Oh yes,” Miss Barrowclough looked expectantly at the prisoners, when no one showed any sign of moving she said; “Well, I’ll just go and get a flask and some cups.”

“Well done Fletch,” Sexy Sadie giggled.

“Listen up you lot,” Fletcher whispered urgently, “that was a nasty cut on Harris’ arm. It’s goin’ to take Mackay quite awhile to get her back to Slade; she might even have to take her into Carlisle. I doubt she’ll come back much before its time for us to go back to nick anyway,” Fletcher looked around at all the nodding heads, “If we play our cards right we should have a nice easy day in the sunshine…you never know we might have to come back tomorrow,” Fletcher gave her confederates a conspiratorial grin, “now talking of playing cards, anyone bring any?”

0=0=0=0

Not being much of a poker player (even if it was for match sticks and not kittens) Buffy got up after a few hands and went to stand and stare out over the lake; she’d only been there a minute or two when she felt someone come up behind her.

“Penny for them?”

“What?” Buffy glanced over her shoulder, “Oh, it’s you Miss Barrowclough,” Buffy turned to look at the lake again, “I was just thinking, y’know?”

“Thinking about how your life has changed?” the prison officer asked.

“No,” Buffy smiled sadly, “well not so much. Actually I was wondering what my sister is doing right now.”

“Worried that she might be getting into trouble?” Barrowclough asked quietly, “worried that she might end up in prison like her sister?”

“Oh no!” Buffy almost laughed, “Faith would never let her do anything like that.”

“Faith?”

“My sister’s girlfriend,” Buffy replied.

“Girlfriend?” Miss Barrowclough repeated uncertainly.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed and sat down on the sandy shore, “you see Faith went to prison back in the States, she’d never let Dawn make those kinda mistakes.”

“Oh,” Miss Barrowclough sounded unsure of herself; “so you let your sister get involved with a woman who’d been in prison, don’t you think that was a little unwise?”

“Didn’t have much choice in the matter,” Buffy admitted, “once Dawn’d made up her mind there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her…and anyway I was having problems of my own, the demon drink y’see?”

“Oh,” Barrowclough nodded her head wisely, “liked the bottle a little too much, eh?”

“Liked the bottle?” Buffy turned to give Barrowclough and incredulous look, “I’d have run away and married the bottle and had its babies if I could!” Buffy laughed, “But I’m all over that now. I just get my life back on track then this happens,” Buffy gestured helplessly at nothing in particular.

“Prison you mean,” Miss Barrowclough glanced over her shoulder to see the other prisoners still playing cards and drinking tea. “well…”

“Hey!” Buffy interrupted Barrowclough and held up her hand for quiet, “Can you smell that?”

“Smell what?” Barrowclough looked around with her usual slightly puzzled expression on her face, “I can’t smell…”

“A sorta fishy smell,” Buffy interrupted again.

“Oh, yes,” Barrowclough coughed to cover her embarrassment, “I expect that’s Sadie, she has…” Barrowclough looked around checking that no one was close enough to hear, “body odour problems, she’s seeing the MO about it…”

“No,” Buffy stood up and started to move towards the tree line where it reached the lake, “it’s coming from over here.”

Walking along the shoreline, Buffy was hardly aware of Barrowclough stumbling along behind her. Dormant slayer senses were rapidly coming alive starting to warn her of danger close by. Unconsciously, Buffy began to prepare herself for a fight as the feeling of menace grew stronger. Stopping suddenly, Buffy held up her hand again as a new scent assaulted her nose; the smell of corruption lay heavily in the air all around her.

“Don’t tell me you can’t smell that?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Yes,” Barrowclough put her hand to her face trying to block the stench of rotting meat, “I expect a sheep has died somewhere nearby, now come…”

Pulling herself free of Barrowclough’s hand, Buffy worked her way past the first line of trees. Moving through the jungle of trees and brambles, she was aware of Barrowclough crashing about behind her.

“Now stop this Summers,” Miss Barrowclough called from behind her, “you’ve gone quite far enough. I want you to turn around and rejoin the others, if you do it now I won’t tell Miss Mackay when she gets back.”

Ignoring Miss Barrowclough, Buffy pressed on a couple of more yards; by now the stench of corruption was almost overpowering. Coming to a halt, Buffy glanced around, a patch or bright orange material caught her attention, she moved rapidly towards it.

“Summers!” Miss Barrowclough warned with all the determination she could muster, “I’m warning you,” she came up behind Buffy who was standing stock still looking down at something hidden in a shallow dip in the ground. “If you don’t…” Barrowclough saw what Buffy was looking at, “Oh my god!” she turned her eyes away from the sight that greeted them, “What…!”

Listening to the sounds of Miss Barrowclough being violently sick behind her, Buffy studied the two bodies wrapped up in the remains of a bloody tent. It looked as if it’d been torn apart by something with very sharp claws. Kneeling down to examine the bodies more closely, Buffy guessed that they’d been there for at least a couple of days. The bodies were of a young man and woman, Buffy couldn’t guess their ages better than that. It looked as if they’d both suffered a sustained and frenzied attack by something big and powerful.

After the attack the creature had dragged the bodies to this point, Buffy could see what looked like drag marks leading further into the wood, where it had fed on its victims. Looking closely, she could see bite marks on the couple’s bodies and where pieces were missing. After its meal the creature, or whatever it was, had wrapped the bodies inexpertly in the remains of the tent and left them there. It would probably be back later to finish its meal…unless it found fresher food of course.

“Oh god,” Miss Barrowclough had stopped retching and was now peering over Buffy’s shoulder fascinated in spite of herself, “what did this?”

“Looks like some sort of wild animal,” Buffy explained quietly.

“What do you mean; wild animal?” by the tone of her voice Miss Barrowclough wasn’t dealing with this too well. “There aren’t any wild animals around here,” she sounded as if she said the words with enough conviction she could make them true, “this is the Lake District not the Wild West.”

“Well,” Buffy stood up, “if it wasn’t a wild animal that would mean a person did this,” she gestured at the bodies and Miss Barrowclough retched quietly, “and to be honest I’d be happier if it was an animal, y’know?”

“Yes,” Miss Barrowclough nodded her head quickly, “I see what you mean.”

“Anyway I’ve seen these sorts of injuries before,” Buffy announced knowingly, “on cattle after they’ve been attacked by mountain lions or something.”

The ‘something’s’ were normally one of several vicious types of demon. Looking again at the bite marks on the unfortunate couple, Buffy dismissed things like Hellhounds because their bite marks were too small. Whatever had done this had to be at least the size of a tiger, perhaps bigger.

“Of course,” now she had something other than the bodies to think about Miss Barrowclough sounded more like her normal self, “there’s all those stories about things like the ‘Beast of Bodmin’, maybe something like that did this?”

Over the last twenty or thirty years there were persistent stories in the media about large cats roaming the more desolate parts of the British Isles. Reports of large black cats attacking sheep and calves had become quite common over the years. On several occasions, Buffy had sent slayers to investigate the more enduring of these stories. The girls usually reported that there was no supernatural involvement and it was just packs of dogs or very occasionally a large black cat.

“Could be,” Buffy nodded her head, “the thing that worries me is that it might still be hungry.”

“You mean…?” Miss Barrowclough looked nervously into the dark shadows under the trees.

“Yes,” Buffy glanced around but sensed nothing close by, “it might come back and if it does it might decide it wants something fresher to snack on.”

“Oh god!” realisation dawned on Miss Barrowclough as she imagined all the terrible things that could happen, “What do we do?” she asked Buffy pleadingly, “Miss Mackay won’t be back for hours with the minibus and there’s no signal on my mobile phone.”

“What about walking to the nearest town or village?” Buffy turned away from the bodies and guided Miss Barrowclough back towards the lake side. “We need to find a police station, you need to report this.”

“I suppose,” Miss Barrowclough said uncertainly, “the nearest place with a police station would be Keswick but that’s eight or ten miles away.”

“Well we better start walking,” Buffy explained as she pushed Barrowclough through the trees and out onto the lake shore.

Just as they burst out of the trees, Buffy noticed a large, low, very dark cloud cover the sun as the first heavy raindrop hit her face. The first raindrop was followed rapidly by another then another until the heavens had opened fully and a steady, heavy rain fell from the dark skies. As they burst out onto the car park, Buffy and Barrowclough found the area empty. Both women started to panic for different reasons; Barrowclough because she thought the prisoners had run off and Buffy because she thought that her friends might have been attacked and eaten.

“Over here!” a voice shouted from out of the treeline.

Turning towards the sound Buffy saw her fellow prisoners huddled under the inadequate protection of the trees.

“I guess this puts pay to us walking out of here,” Buffy observed as she and Barrowclough ran to join the others.

“What do you mean, walk out of here?” Fletcher asked as the screw and the inmate joined the group under the tress, “Why do we need to go anywhere, Miss Mackay’ll be back soon…won’t she?”

Turning to Barrowclough, Buffy raised her eyebrow, “Do you want to explain or shall I?”

“You do it, Summers,” Barrowclough replied surrendering her responsibilities to Buffy.

0=0=0=0


	10. Chapter 10

10.

**The Governor’s Office, Slade Prison.**

“Governor,” the man from the ministry crossed Governor Venables’ office holding out his hand to shake hers; rising from behind her desk, the Governor took hold of the official’s hand and shook it firmly.

“Welcome to Slade Prison, Mr…?” Venables said fishing for the man’s name.

“Hopkins, Governor,” the civil servant replied with a smile, “John Hopkins,” he expanded before adding, “from the Home Office.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr Hopkins,” Venables replied uneasily; she didn’t like civil servants in general and she particularly didn’t like civil servants from the Home Office. “How can I help you?”

Governor Venables sat down and gestured to a seat on the opposite side of her desk. Resting her elbows on the arms of her chair the governor studied Hopkins over the top of her steepled fingers. The man from the ministry didn’t look like the normal run of the mill civil servant. He was too ‘clean cut’, too fit, too…‘shiny’. If this man really was from the Home Office, she’d bet a month’s salary that he was from one of those shadowy sections of the Home Office that no one ever talked about.

“I’ve just come to have a little chat about that unfortunate incident at Bassenthwaite Lake the other day,” Hopkins smiled insincerely, “The Minister just wants to check that we’re all singing from the same ‘hymn sheet’ as it were.”

“Hymn sheet, Mr Hopkins?” Venables replied cautiously, “I don’t think I understand. From what I understand, one of my working parties was attacked by some sort of wild animals. In the confusion one of my inmates was seriously injured and the two ‘creatures’ were killed.” Venables watched Hopkins’ face carefully to see what his reaction would be. “In fact if it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of one of the inmates who fought off these creatures, things could have been decidedly worse.”

“Indeed, Governor,” Hopkins smiled slowly and paused meaningfully before speaking again. “Her Majesties Government,” Hopkins continued, “thinks it would be best not to let the general public think that there are dangerous animals roaming the Lake District. In fact the Minister himself would see it as a personal favour if you’d agree to help us…how should I put this…?”

“Lie?” the governor asked.

“Hmmm,” Hopkins sat in seeming indecision for a moment or two before saying anything further, “not so much to lie, more to bend the truth a little?”

“Bend the truth?” Venables replied wanting clarification.

“What I suggest is this,” Hopkins settled into his chair, “tell the press or indeed anyone else that asks; that following the discovery of those poor unfortunate hikers by one of your inmates. That the Prison Officer in charge of the detail; who was unable to contact the police, wisely decided to take shelter in a nearby building.” Hopkins smiled disarmingly, “You can keep all the business in about one of the inmates being injured and taken to hospital by the other officer. You can use it as an example of how your benevolent and enlightened methods of rehabilitation meant that the public was in no danger from your inmates,” Hopkins’ smile grew wider, “that you felt happy to leave five prisoners in the care of one officer.”

“Of course,” Venables nodded her head slowly in agreement.

“We will of course spread the story,” Hopkins continued, “that your party was then attacked by an escaped lunatic who’d earlier attacked the unfortunate hikers.”

“Ah,” Venables agreed wisely, “the old ‘escaped lunatic’ ruse. Do people still fall for that one?”

“The ‘people’,” Hopkins sneered, “will believe what they’re told, Governor.”

“If you say so,” Venables wished that she was recording this conversation, she had a horrible feeling it was going to come back and bite her on the arse one fine day.

“Your officer, with some help from your inmates,” Hopkins continued as if reading from a script, “managed to detain this lunatic and hold him until the police could be called. You can add the part about one of your inmates being injured in the struggle, it should help garner some public sympathy…the Ministry will deal with everything else.”

“I see,” Venables said slowly, “and what about Summers, she was the real hero of the entire incident, what about her?”

“Of course she’ll need to be rewarded,” Hopkins agreed, “just to help keep her quiet.”

“A transfer to an open prison, perhaps?” Venables suggested.

“Oh no,” Hopkins frowned, “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Hopkins sat and thought for a moment, “Governor, its in your power to award remission of sentence for particularly deserving inmates, is it not?”

“Yes,” Venables agreed slowly.

“Then let me suggest that you award Miss Summers,” Hopkins weighed up his conflicting options, “say six months remission of sentence and a promise to speak personally at her parole hearing in however many years that will be.”

“That’ll be in about three years,” Venables said after doing the sums in her head.

“Good,” Hopkins smiled again, “by the time she gets out the public will have forgotten all about this incident. In fact you could make it a condition of her parole that she doesn’t talk about this incident or any others.”

“Any others?” Venables asked warily.

“Oh, you know,” Hopkins said airily as he started to stand up, “any other little incidents that might crop up from time to time.” Hopkins was standing up now and was looking down at the governor. “Talking of time,” he said pleasantly, “I’ve taken up far too much of yours; I can see you’re a very busy woman, so I’ll leave you to your duties.”

Leaning across the desk, Hopkins shook the governor’s hand.

“The Ministry will issue a press release,” Hopkins informed the governor, “all you have to do is agree with it and of course keep Miss Summers safely behind bars for the next three or so years.”

“Of course,” Venables agreed as she showed Hopkins to the door.

Once the man from the ministry had left, Governor Venables walked slowly back to her desk. The entire situation which had blown up over the last few days was odd, very odd indeed. Sitting down behind her desk, Venables wondered why the Home Office was so keen on covering everything up. As far as she could see the news that there were strange creatures living in the Lake District could only increase the numbers or tourists flocking to the area. That had to be good for the local economy. Then there was the thing about wanting to keep Summers locked up for at least three years? Why her in particular?

Taking Summers’ file from where it lay on her desk, the governor flicked through it; Summers was nothing but a common burglar, more successful than most but still a common criminal. Why was the Minister himself interested in how long she was in prison for? Reaching for her phone Governor Venables decided to make a few calls; she had friends, perhaps they knew what was going on.

0=0=0=0

Hearing the gates of Slade prison slam behind him, the man who called himself ‘John Hopkins’ breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a close call, he told himself as he walked towards his car. The Minister himself had said this entire incident had to be swept under the carpet as soon as possible. In a couple of days the government would engineer an outbreak of bird flu or something and distract the media with that. Until then this incident had to be managed.

What had made the entire situation worse was the unexpected involvement of Miss Summers; why had she been allowed on the work detail in the first place? Opening the door to his car Hopkins got in and closed the door behind him, he sat for a moment or two in thought. He expected the prison authorities had their reasons and Miss Summers had to be treated exactly like any other prisoner, that way her friends and family wouldn’t get anymore suspicious than they already were.

Reaching around the steering wheel, Hopkins turned the ignition. It was vital for the project to be successful. The government had to know that this new ‘Slayer Organisation’ could be trusted to obey the law of the land and not take matters into their own hands when one of their operatives came under the scrutiny of the security services. Driving out of the car park, Hopkins smiled, he’d read the files; once or twice the slayers and their friends had sailed close to the wind, but it was all things that the government could ignore as it saved them from having to take action. But if the slayers and their friends took it into their heads to break Miss Summers out of prison, then…then the government’s attitude would have to be more, what was the word…robust?

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison Kitchens.**

The noise of Buffy’s knife on the chopping board sounded like bursts of machine-gun fire, she was actually cutting up carrots for dinner. Janet sidled up to her and picked up a spare knife to help with the chopping.

“So,” Janet said quietly as she slowly cut a carrot into uneven pieces, “what did the governur hae tae say fur herself?”

“Six months remission, and a promise to speak at my parole board,” Buffy replied levelly.

”Och that is nae sae bad,” Janet smiled; she glanced at Buffy and frowned, “What’s up? Ye dinnae look sae happy, this’ll mean ye’ll be oot in what? Thee years?”

“I suppose,” Buffy stopped cutting for a while and sighed, she was beginning to think she would never get out of prison until she was officially let out; she looked over to where Janet was cutting up carrots into uneven chunks. “Not like that,” Buffy stood behind Janet and took hold of her hands, “like this,” she guided Janet’s hands as they cut a new carrot up into evenly sized pieces. “If you don’t cut them up properly they won’t cook evenly, understand?”

“Och aye, Ah kin,” Janet agreed as she cut away under Buffy’s guidance.

“What’s going on here?” an official sounding voice came from behind Buffy.

Jumping away from Janet guiltily, Buffy turned to face Miss Appleton who’d come up behind them as they’d been working.

“Um,” Buffy automatically started to feel guilty and uncomfortable, “I-I was just showing McLaren how to cut up carrots properly, Miss Appleton.”

“Mind that’s all you were doing,” Miss Appleton looked Buffy up and down as she considered what she was about to say. “You’ve done well in the kitchens, Summers.”

“Thank-you, Miss Appleton,” this was worse than being in school, Buffy thought.

“I’ve decided to give you a little more responsibility,” Appleton explained; Buffy had been doing some good work in the kitchen and that sort of behaviour needed to be rewarded, Miss Appleton had told herself, (plus there had been that business with Miss Beal, she still felt guilty about that). “I’ve decided to make you Kitchen Supervisor, starting tomorrow. You’ll work directly under me and be responsible for working out the menus and overseeing the other prisoners working in the kitchen. Come and see me after dinner.”

Watching Miss Appleton walk away, Buffy once again wondered why rewards always ended up with her having more work to do; whatever happened to the milk and cookies option?

“What did she want?” Janet asked when Buffy came back to cut up more carrots.

“Oh,” Buffy smiled, “she wants to make me kitchen supervisor or something and I think she thought we were doing something we shouldn’t, you know?”

“That’s a guid job, scullery supervisur,” Janet sounded genuinely happy for her friend, “Jist mind who helped ye gie it.”

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked with a frown as she went back to slicing up carrots.

“Well,” Janet gave her a wide grin, “if Ah hud nae knoon hoo tae cut up carrots, she woods ne'er hae spotted ye an' given ye the job, y’ken?”

“Oh I see,” Buffy laughed lightly, “you’re saying your incompetence got me the job?”

“Aye,” Jock nodded as she cut up carrots into perfectly sized pieces, “An' abit the other hin'.”

“The other thing?” Buffy wiped her hands on her apron before turning to pick up more carrots.

“Weel, ye ken,” Janet’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Abit daein' things we shoods nae?”

Putting the new bag of carrots on the table, Buffy paused to look at her friend.

“Ah woods nae say nae, Buffy,” Janet kept her eyes on her work as she spoke, “ye ken. Ah prefer fellas oan the ootside, but inside Ah gie a wee bit lonely tay, y’ken.?”

“Umm, I think I do,” Buffy wasn’t sure she knew what to say; she did like Janet, she actually felt quite attracted to her but… But did she really want to go there? “Look, Janet,” Buffy began slowly, “its not that I don’t appreciate the offer but…”

“Och Ah ken,” Janet replied with a smile, “Ye dinnae want tae wear yerself it afair the big match…afterwards mebbe?”

“Yes,” Buffy smiled and nodded, “after the match maybe,” Buffy wasn’t too sure whether she’d take Janet up on her offer or not; she’d wait and see, “so that’s still on? To be honest what with monsters,” of one sort or another she added to herself, “I’d completely forgotten. Did Groutie arrange a visiting team?”

“Aye,” Janet reached for a new carrot and touched Buffy’s hand by accident, both women paused before getting on with their work, “she found a women’s team in Newcastle 'at is willin' tae play us.”

“Great!” Buffy smiled as she remembered the warmth of Janet’s hand on her own, “When will we be playing?”

“Abit a month’s time,” Janet explained.

“Doesn’t give us much time to train,” Buffy pointed out.

“Nearly fur weeks,” Janet pointed out, “An' th' governur says we can train, Seturday, Sunday an' Wadensday afternoons an' we gie better rations an' mair fruit an' vegetables if we want it.”

“Great, more chips!” Buffy imagined being locked in a small room with someone who’d been eating a lot of fruit and vegetables.

0=0=0=0

“Summers!” Buffy was walking back to her cell after finishing in the kitchen for the day when she heard the familiar voice behind her; turning she smiled at Miss Mackay.

“Can I help you, Miss Mackay?” Buffy asked pleasantly, she was in a good mood this evening and she was determined not to let anything spoil it.

“My office,” Mackay tuned and pointed to the Wing Office, “now!”

Moments later, Buffy was standing at attention in the wing office, she waited for Mackay to come in and say whatever it was she wanted to say.

“Going up in the world, aren’t you, Summers?” Mackay’s voice came from right next to her left ear; Buffy wondered how Mackay did that, even her slayer hearing hadn’t picked up on her approach. “I hear Miss Appleton has decided, in her wisdom, to make you Kitchen Supervisor.”

By the sound of Mackay’s voice she didn’t approve, but as Miss Appleton was the same rank as Mackay and had more years of experience, she wasn’t going to second guess a fellow officer.

“Remember, Summers,” Mackay walked slowly around Buffy until she was looking directly into her face, “anything that can be given can be taken away again.”

“And quite right too, Miss Mackay,” Buffy agreed with a slight nod of the head.

“So keep y’nose clean and I can see you going far,” Mackay explained.

“Far enough that I’ll be going home, Miss Mackay?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“Aye,” Mackay seemed to soften a little and nodded her head, “it time, Summers, in time.” Taking a deep breath, Mackay went to sit on the edge of the desk, “As I said before, Summers, you’re not like the others, I hear your friends have asked for leave to appeal against your sentence.”

“They have!?” Buffy turned with a bright smile and took half a step towards Mackay before she remembered where she was, “Sorry,” Buffy muttered an apology.

“You didn’t know?” Mackay scratched the back of her head, “I’m sorry if I’m talking out of turn,” she picked up a clipboard and checked something, “I see you’re sister’s coming to visit you this weekend.”

“Yes, Miss Mackay,” Buffy tried hard to hide her excitement, maybe she would get out of here sometime soon after all.

“If you like,” Mackay said quietly, “I’ll authorise you to use the phone tomorrow, you can talk to your sister. Perhaps get her to bring you a few comforts, some shampoo and cosmetics perhaps, little things like that.” Mackay coughed into her hand as if she was covering up an attack of embarrassment.

“T-Thank-you, Miss Mackay,” Buffy replied slowly.

“Don’t let me down, Summers,” once again Mackay was standing only inches away from Buffy. “I have high hopes for you, don’t disappoint me, understand?”

“Of course not, Miss Mackay,” Buffy nodded again.

“Then what are y’waiting for?” Mackay stepped away from Buffy and gestured towards the door, “On y’way, back to y’cell woman!”

0=0=0=0

“You look happy,” Norma said from her usual position of reading the paper lying on her bunk.

“I am,” Buffy admitted, as she started to remove her ‘whites’ prior to taking a shower.

“Well,” Norma put down her paper and sat up, “tell y’old Auntie Norma what’s tickled y’fancy,” Norma paused before adding, “unless you’ve actually had your fancy tickled in which case I’d rather not know.”

Throwing her whites onto her bunk, Buffy sort out a clean dress and underwear.

“So far today,” Buffy started to explain, “I’ve been made Kitchen Supervisor, Mackay was actually nice to me, my sisters visiting tomorrow, I’ve not been attacked by monsters and…” Buffy paused for a couple of seconds, “…oh yes and Janet McLaren propositioned me.”

“Oh that’s nice,” Norma replied vaguely before realising what she’d just heard, “SHE WHAT!?”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Buffy cast a worried glance out the cell door, luckily there were no screws in evidence, “I don’t want the entire wing to know.”

“You haven’t taken ‘er up on the offer have you?” Norma wanted to know.

“No,” Buffy shook her head as she picked up her soap and towel.

“Good,” Norma sighed with relief, “I don’t want you knackered, football training starts in earnest tomorrow afternoon.” Norma lay down on her bunk again, “I don’t want you and that Jock, nerk, exhausting each other before the game’s even begun…an’ another thing,” Norma glanced out the cell to make sure the coast was clear, “if you do take her up on the offer, be careful. The screws don’t actually approve of that sort of thing, okay?”

“If,” Buffy stood in her underwear looking up at Norma, “and I say _if_ I take Janet up on her offer it’ll probably be after the match and I promise to be very discrete, happy?”

“Yeah,” muttered Norma as she picked up her newspaper again, “mind you are.”

0=0=0=0


	11. Chapter 11

11.

**Slade Prison.**

“Buffy!” Dawn jumped up from the seat where she’d been waiting and ran to greet her sister as Buffy walked into the visitor’s room.

“Dawn!” Buffy returned her younger siblings embrace, glancing over her sister’s shoulder she saw the disapproving look on the face of the screw standing at the far end of the room. “Come on, Dawnie,” Buffy gently disentangled herself from her sister’s arms, “let’s sit down, eh?”

“Yeah, sure,” eagerly Dawn led the way over to the table around which lay a couple of plastic shopping bags.

“You got the stuff I asked for?” Buffy asked hopefully as she sat down.

“Yeah sure,” Dawn made herself as comfortable as she could on the hard chair, “although I’m not sure why you wanted most of this stuff.” Dawn lifted up one of the bags and put it on the table, “Okay,” she looked inside to check the contents, “you know these fascists,” Dawn jerked her head towards one of the screws, “they totally searched everything, opened all the tubes and everything!”

“Hey,” Buffy reached across the table and took hold of Dawn’s hand, “don’t worry about it, they’re just doing their job.”

“Look,” Dawn’s face lost some of the look of happiness at seeing her sister, “you are you okay in here?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Buffy smiled reassuringly, “apart from the clothes of course,” Buffy picked at the bright orange waistcoat she was wearing over her grey prison dress, “orange was _so_ never my colour.”

“They don’t do strip searches do they?” Dawn asked with just a hint of morbid curiosity in her voice.

“No,” Buffy said firmly before modifying her statement, “well, not often…so,” Buffy smiled in an attempt to lighten the mood a little, “what did you bring me?”

“Right,” Dawn grinned like it was Christmas morning and looked into the bag, “I got you, shampoo, conditioner, soap, moisturiser, a couple of lipsticks…tampons,” Dawn’s voice dropped a little as she said the word, “toothpaste and all good stuff like that.”

“The small empty bottles I asked for?” Buffy looked into the bag.

“In the other bag,” Dawn told her, “why do you want those?”

“So I don’t have to take the big bottle into the showers with me,” Buffy explained.

“Are they communal showers like at school?” once again curiosity got the better of Dawn for a moment.

“Yes,” Buffy frowned.

“Gross,” Dawn gave a shiver of disgust.

“You know,” Buffy gave her sister a half smile, “if you’re really that interested all you have to do is get caught shoplifting or something and you can learn about all this interesting stuff…first hand.”

“No way,” Dawn laughed, “you won’t catch me going to jail, no…” Dawn noticed the look on Buffy’s face, “Oh god I’m totally sorry Buffy,” she apologised quickly, “I didn’t mean it like that I…”

“Okay,” Buffy said in her special big sister’s voice, “I’ll let you off…if that other bag’s got the other goodies I wanted in it.”

“Phew,” Dawn made a show of wiping imaginary sweat from her forehead, “that’s okay, ‘cause I’ve totally got everything you wanted.” Dawn picked up the bag and passed it to Buffy, “Loads of candy in there, Buffy…”

“Liquorish Allsorts?” Buffy asked urgently as she searched through the bag’s contents.

“Yes,” Dawn replied pointedly, “just why do you need all that stuff, you were never a big candy eater.”

“Hey,” Buffy put the bag down by her feet, “in here you learn to appreciate simple luxuries like chocolate and candy. It’s also good to trade with the other women…some of them have a wicked, bad liquorish habit.”

“Trade?” Dawn raised an eyebrow, “Like, for what?”

“Stuff,” Buffy shrugged non-committally, “you know,” Dawn didn’t, “and its handy if you want to bribe someone.”

“Why’d you want to bribe people, Buffy?” there was a definite tone of suspicion in Dawn’s voice.

“Oh,” again Buffy shrugged she really didn’t want to get into it with her sister just now so she changed the subject. “So,” Buffy said slowly, “what’s this I hear about asking for leave to appeal against my sentence?”

“You heard about that?” Dawn frowned, “Like, how?”

“I have my spies,” Buffy informed her.

“Yeah okay,” Dawn wasn’t sure she liked what prison appeared to be doing to her sister, “look hold on.”

Looking around guiltily, Dawn reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a snow globe and put it on the table between them.

“Dawn,” Buffy gave the snow globe a wry look, “I gotta say, tacky much.”

“Wait,” Dawn tapped the snow globe with her finger and looked around the room, apparently satisfied with what she saw she turned back to grin at her sister. “Willow sent it,” Dawn informed her.

“I’m surprised Kennedy let her touch it,” Buffy pointed out, “her being such a style Nazi an’all.”

“No, it’s a spell,” Dawn corrected her, “until I tap it again as far as anyone else is concerned we’re just talking about family and friends and not plotting to get you out of here.”

“Cool,” Buffy nodded her head I, “so, the plot to get me out, come on Dawnie spill.”

“Right,” Dawn cleared her throat; she’d been told not to tell Buffy about the planed breakout until everything was in place, no one wanted to raise Buffy’s hopes only to have to dash them if anything went wrong. “Giles said that the leave to appeal thing is just like a place holder. We’re totally trying to keep your case in the public eye, like we’re so trying not to let the system forget about you.”

“But will it get me outta here?” Buffy asked urgently.

“Probably not,” Dawn replied sadly, “but it’ll totally help later.”

“Okay so what else are you doing?” Buffy sat back in her seat as she watched Dawn closely.

“Willow and Giles found out some stuff,” despite the privacy spell, Dawn looked around to check that no one was listening to their conversation.

“And?” Buffy prompted.

“And,” Dawn lined up all she had to say in her head before she started talking again, “the reason your case went so disastrously badly was that someone totally put the evil mojo on everyone involved in it. Even if you’d had the best lawyer in the world, like that guy off Boston Legal, you’d still have lost!”

“Who…?” Buffy started to say something but Dawn didn’t give her a chance.

“Before you ask,” Dawn became very serious, “we think we know who did it.”

“Dawn?” Buffy said warningly, “Don’t mess about trying to stretch out the tension.”

“Okay, okay,” Dawn sighed, “we think it was Ethan Rayne…”

“Ethan Rayne?” Buffy remembered the English wizard-guy from the couple of run-ins she’d had with him in Sunnydale, thinking about it this sounded like his idea of ‘fun’.

“Giles says he’s heavily into Chaos,” Dawn shrugged as she explained, “so this kinda thing is right up his street.”

“So,” Buffy face was dark as thunder, “where is he and when can I wring his neck?”

“That’s the problem,” Dawn told her sister sadly, “we can’t find him…but we’re so looking, we’ve got every slayer in the world looking for him. Willow’s got her witchy friends casting locator spells day and night…its only a matter of time ‘til we find him.”

“And then what?” Buffy asked pointedly.

“We get him to reverse all the spells,” Dawn smiled happily, “then Willow casts him into some demon dimension without his powers.”

“Sounds like a plan…” Buffy imagined several more painful punishments for Ethan Rayne, but that would have to wait until she was out of jail, “So, Dawnie, tell me what’s happening outside of these grey walls…”

0=0=0=0

Sitting in her car, Maggie McBride pretended to read a magazine as she waited for Dawn to finish her visit with her sister. Having volunteered to drive Dawn over to Cumbria, Maggie was also taking the chance to scope the place out. Her earlier suspicions had been confirmed; one look at the place told her that the best way of breaking Buffy Summers out of jail was to persuade the authorities to get her on this side of those forbidding walls.

Flicking through the magazine, Maggie picked up the sound of someone approaching the car. Looking up she glanced in the rear view mirror to see a familiar face coming towards her. Putting down the magazine, Maggie opened her door and stepped out onto the gravel covered car park.

“As I live and breath,” Maggie called over the sound of the wind blowing in from Scotland, “if it’s not Staff Sergeant Mackay!”

The woman stopped in mid stride and turned a puzzled face towards Maggie, slowly the light of recognition lit Mackay’s face as she recognised her old friend.

“Sergeant McBride!” Mackay advanced on her old army friend and shook her hand warmly, “I haven’t seen you since…what…’01?”

“Yeah,” Maggie smiled happily at the Scots woman, “that was just before you left and I got my sergeant’s tape. By the way its just plain ‘Miss’ now.”

“You left?” Mackay frowned at the news, “I heard you were doing well, got a posting to Hereford didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Maggie nodded, “didn’t turn out so well so I left in ‘03 got a job at an adventure training centre for girls near Middlesbrough. What about you?”

“Joined the Prison Service, got married,” Mackay grinned, “Charlie’s a teacher, so what are you doing here? Do you know one of the prisoners or something?”

“Not as such,” Maggie wondered if it was safe to talk to Mackay; they’d know each other for some years when they’d been in the Royal Military Police together, Mackay had always been trustworthy then and military loyalty to old friends ran deep. “I drove the sister of one of the inmates over so she could visit.”

“That was good of you,” Mackay nodded her head in approval, “sister of one of your girls was it?”

“Um, no,” Maggie admitted, “Dawn’s sister actually more or less ran the place, Buffy Summers, you know her?”

“My god!” Mackay was clearly shocked, “You mean Summers ran a school for girls?”

“Sort of,” Maggie wondered if she’d said too much.

“Well,” Mackay seemed to be thinking about something, “that does explain one or two things.”

“Like?” Maggie nudged.

“Summers is not like the others inside…”

“You wouldn’t believe the half of it,” Maggie added.

“No I don’t suppose I would,” Mackay leaned against the car parked next to Maggie’s, “so, what went wrong?”

Talking the next five minutes, Maggie tried to explain the background to why Buffy Summers had landed up in jail. When she’d finished, Mackay gave her a long appraising look.

“You were never the one to let people pull the wool over y’eyes,” Mackay said slowly.

“Got that off you Staff,” Maggie admitted.

“Aye,” Mackay nodded her head deep in thought, “I taught you well, even though I say it that shouldn’t. You're not a soft touch so you must believe this story.”

“I do,” Maggie replied firmly, “because I know the truth and someone is trying to keep Miss Summers in prison but we’ve no idea why.”

“Do all her friends think like you do?” Mackay wanted to know.

“Yes,” Maggie replied simply.

“Well,” Mackay eyed her old friend, “I can’t give her any special treatment but I’ll tell you what I will do, I’ll keep an eye on her while she’d inside, make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”

“Thanks, Staff,” Maggie replied.

“Call me Helen, I’ve no been ‘Staff Sergeant’ for some time now,” Mackay relaxed slightly, “so tell me all about this school…”

For the next ten minutes the two women gossiped about their jobs and what had become of mutual friends. Eventually Helen Mackay said that she had to go as her husband was expecting her. However if Maggie was to let her know when she was next bringing Miss Summers junior over to visit, she’d arrange to be available to have a proper chat.

Watching as Helen Mackay drove her car out of the car park, Maggie started to wonder what she should do. Should she tell Faith and Kennedy that she knew someone on the staff inside the prison? One thing was sure she’d have to report the meeting to her Case Officer; he’d be interested in the news. Although all the records said Sergeant Maggie McBride had left the British Army in the summer of 2003, the truth was she was still in the army now with the rank of Staff Sergeant.

When Maggie had realised that something special had happened to her she’d gone straight to her commanding officer. Eventually she’d been sent to the Special Air Service depot in Hereford for evaluation and training; she’d run rings around the hardened SAS instructors. After a few weeks a ‘Spook’ from one of the London based security services came to see her, they had a job that only she could do and there was promotion in it for her.

All the spook wanted her to do was get a job at what was known as ‘Slayer Central’ in Saltburn-by-the-Sea and generally just keep an eye on things for the security services. The spook made it very clear that they didn’t suspect the slayers of anything underhand; they just wanted their own pair of eyes on the organisation who’d report back to them. That’s all she had to do, a weekly report on the slayers in this country and any interesting tit-bits of information on the slayer’s activities overseas. Nothing to it.

There was nothing to it until Buffy Summers had been arrested tried and thrown in prison; Maggie was fairly sure that the people she was working for were as surprised as she’d been by the news. Her suspicions were later confirmed when her case officer had told her that some other agency was responsible and hadn’t informed which ever security service she was spying for. As her case officer had explained, it was a typical Whitehall farce.

0=0=0=0

“…one last thing, Dawnie,” Buffy glanced up at the clock on the wall; there wasn’t much time left, the screws would soon bring the visiting hour to a close. 

“Anything,” Dawn said her eyes starting to go shiny as they filled with tears.

“There’s a Prison Officer called Beal,” Buffy spoke urgently as her sister made a note of the name. “she’s on sick leave at the moment but she’s going to leave the service soon.”

“Okay,” Dawn wiped at her eye, the visit was almost over and she wouldn’t get to see Buffy for another month, “what do you want?”

“I want her followed,” Buffy explained, “or at least I want to know where she lives and who she’s working for.”

“Why?” Dawn made another note in her little book, “I mean, I can have people keep an eye on her but…”

“Look Dawn,” Buffy reached out and took both her sister’s hands in her own, “I can’t tell you now but it’s important, trust me, eh?”

“Sure,” Dawn would have said more but her voice was drowned out by the sound of the bell signalling the end of visiting hour.

0=0=0=0

Carrying her bags back to her cell, Buffy wondered at how hard she’d become over the few months she’d been inside; she’d not turned a hair when the screws had searched her and her bags after visiting hour had finished. She’d not even shed a tear when it was time for Dawn to leave even when she’d seen the tears trickling down Dawn’s face, you couldn’t show weakness not inside, there’d be time enough for tears when she was home.

Pushing open the door to her cell, Buffy saw a figure standing by her bed.

“What’re you doing in here, Harris,” Buffy snapped angrily.

Jumping away from her in surprise, Harris clutched at her injured arm which hung in a sling across her chest.

“Nothing!” Harris claimed, “I was looking for you?”

“So you’ve found me,” Buffy threw her bags onto her bunk, “what do you want?”

“Umm,” Harris frantically tried to think of a reason to be in Buffy’s cell without her permission, “Fletch wanted to know when you’d be going to training…for the football?”

“Did you expect to find me hiding under the bed?” Buffy ran her eye over everything in the room; if Harris had done something or taken something she couldn’t spot it.

“N-no!” Harris backed away from the obviously angry Buffy Summers, “I-I’ll tell her you’re on your way then.” Harris made a break for the door but Buffy easily stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Look Harris,” Buffy took hold of the front of Harris’ dress and lifted her slowly off the ground, “I know you’re a tea-leaf, so when I come back to my cell if I find anything missing I’m going to come for you…”

“B-but…” Harris tried to protest her innocence, but a cold look from Buffy shut her up.

“I will turn you inside out to find whatever’s gone missing,” Buffy growled menacingly, “even if it wasn’t you who took it. So, its in your interest to make sure no one comes in here and takes anything, do I make myself clear?”

“As-as crystal,” Harris sighed with relief as Buffy put her down.

“Now get out,” Buffy jerked her head towards the door and watched as Harris scurried away.

Apart from being a thief, Harris was also a coward, Buffy felt fairly confident that Harris wouldn’t cross her and that everything would be where she’d left it when she came back. After quickly stuffing the goodies Dawn had brought for her into her personal cupboard, Buffy stripped off her dress and put on the football shirt and shorts she’d been issued with for football practice. Sitting down she slipped off her shoes and socks and put on her football socks and trainers. Ready to run out onto the pitch at Wembley, Buffy left her cell and headed off through the almost deserted prison for the sports fields.

0=0=0=0

Running out onto the field in the early summer sunshine, Buffy watched as she saw other prospective members of the team running up and down the pitch with footballs at their feet. Hearing Fletcher calling to her she turned to look for her friend who was now also her coach.

“Come on Summers you’re late!” Fletcher kicked a ball towards her, “Lets see what your ball control skills are like.”

As the ball rolled gently towards her, Buffy dived on it and grabbed it as if she was holding a demon in a head lock. Standing over her, Fletcher put her hands on her hips and shook her head in sorrow.

“That’s not exactly what I meant by ball control,” Fletcher told her, “But during the actual match, if we’re losing badly you might want to do that to their star player.” Fletcher held her hand out to Buffy to help her to her feet, “Come on we’ve got a lot to teach you.”

0=0=0=0


	12. Chapter 12

12.

**Slade Prison.**

Before the alarm clock even had time to do more than *Ding* once, Buffy’s hand had streaked from under her blankets and silenced it. Sitting up she placed her feet on the floor and shivered at the touch of the cold linoleum. Sitting on the edge of her bunk she yawned and dry scrubbed her face. With a deep sigh she stood up and padded across the cell as quietly as she could so she didn’t disturb Norma too much. After squatting over the slop bucket to pee, Buffy poured some water into the wash basin and washed her hands and face.

Working in the kitchens was one of the best jobs you could get in prison, but it did have its down side. The major draw back, as Buffy saw it, was having to get up an hour earlier than everyone else. Very soon a screw would unlock the cell door and let her go to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Today, however, no one came to open the door; the screw came round as usual and looked in through the ‘Judas Hole’, she banged on the door with her truncheon and moved on after shouting, ‘Wakey-wakey’.

“You still ‘ere?” Norma called bleary eyed from her bunk.

“Yeah,” Buffy turned to look at Norma as she climbed down onto the floor, “what’s going on? I’ve got five hundred breakfasts to cook or there’ll be a riot.”

Norma disappeared around the end of the bunk and Buffy heard her peeing into the bucket. When Norma reappeared there was a worried look on her face.

“When something happens in nick that’s not part of the usual routine,” Norma went over to the washstand and washed her face, “it’s a sign that something odd's about to happen.” Norma wiped her face on her towel, “Usually something bad…oh my god! They’re going to search the cell!”

“What?” Buffy had experienced one or two cell searches for contraband before, but never so early in the morning.

“Look,” Norma turned to Buffy and grabbed her by the arms, “is there anything in the cell that shouldn’t be here?” Buffy shook her head, “You sure your sister didn’t bring you anything ‘special’ yesterday?”

“What?” Buffy looked at her friend a little stunned, “Like drugs?”

“Yeah,” Norma nodded her head urgently.

“No,” Buffy said firmly, “never use them, neither does Dawn.”

“There must be something,” Norma started to search the cell, “have you seen anyone in here that shouldn’t be?”

“Only Harris,” Buffy had now joined Norma in searching the cell.

“That little scrote!?” Norma snapped angrily, “What was she doing? Quick we probably don’t have much time.”

“She was standing by the bed,” Buffy replied urgently, “I though she was trying to steal stuff so I threatened her and kicked her out.”

“Bet she was…” Norma paused in her demolition of Buffy’s bed and held up a small packet of white powder.

“The little bitch planted that!” Buffy snarled angrily, “I’ll…”

“No time for that, we’ve gotta get rid of it!” Norma looked around the cell; in the distance steady footsteps could be heard coming purposely nearer and nearer.

“Throw it out the window,” Buffy suggested.

“No good,” Norma informed her, “there’ll be a couple of screws watching for stuff being thrown out.”

“Slop bucket?”

“They’ll test it,” Norma pointed out.

“Will they do a body search?” Buffy asked as the footsteps advanced along the landing outside.

“I’ll risk it,” Norma thrust the hand holding the packet down the front of her pyjama trousers.

“What are you doing?” Buffy demanded, the footsteps were almost outside now.

“With luck,” Norma wriggled about as she poked the packet into her vagina, “they won’t do a cavity search, I hope…I’ll get rid of this later.”

Just as Norma removed her hand from her trousers the Judas Hole opened and Buffy saw an eye peer in at them.

“I won’t forget this, Norma,” Buffy whispered as the door was unlocked and Mackay walked into the cell followed by Barrowclough.

“Alright you two,” Mackay said wearily, “you know the drill.”

Standing to one side of the cell Buffy and Norma put their hands on their heads and submitted to a body search, while Mackay turned their cell upside down. Five minutes later when the screws had found nothing, Mackay came and stood right in front of the two women and stared into their eyes.

“You were lucky this time,” Mackay told them, “next time though,” turning away she signalled Barrowclough to leave the cell before leaning in towards Buffy, “Don’t let me down Summers,” she said quietly, before changing back to her normal voice, “Summers, get away to the kitchen, Fletcher, get this cell tidied up!”

0=0=0=0

As it happened, breakfast was only ten minutes late and there wasn’t a riot. As Buffy walked around the kitchen supervising the cooking of the Sunday roast, her mind went over the events of the last day or so. Although Harris was a vile, thieving, little scrote, without even enough scruples to stop her stealing from her fellow inmates, she was also a coward; she wouldn’t have planted something in Buffy’s cell off her own back.

For a start Harris had nothing against her; Buffy had never done anything to Harris other than treat her with the same contempt as everyone else, she’d certainly not done anything to warrant having drugs planted on her. Anyway, people like Harris expected to be treated like the nasty little scrotes they were. So, Harris must have been put up to it by someone else. Someone with a grudge against Buffy or Norma must have got to Harris, supplied the drugs and had her plant them in the cell. The only person Buffy could think of with that sort of power and wealth enough to sacrifice valuable drugs on a piece of revenge was Groutie.

“Groutie,” Buffy growled deep in her throat, “I’ll naffin’ murder that naffin’ scrote.”

Looking around the kitchen, Buffy saw Janet McLaren peeling the spuds over by the sink.

“Janet,” Buffy called, “come and give me a hand would you?”

Putting down her knife and wiping her hands on her apron McLaren walked over to Buffy who lead her into one of the store rooms. Shutting the store door behind them, Buffy picked up a clipboard and started to do a stock check.

“Janet,” Buffy said quietly as she ticked off items on the clipboard, “can you organise something for me?”

“Sure,” Janet leant against the door preventing anyone from just bursting in, “what d’ you want?”

“This evening I need to have a private word with that scrote Harris,” Buffy put down the clipboard and turned to face her friend, “I need enough people to cover up any noise, y’know what I mean?”

“No’ a problem, ye ken,” McLaren smiled, “anything for you, Buffy y’know that. Nae body likes Harris sae thaur will be plenty ay volunteers.”

“Thanks Janet,” Buffy walked up to the Scots teenager, “I won’t forget this.”

Before she realised what she was doing, Buffy had pushed Janet up against the door and kissed her full on the lips.

“Oh my god,” Buffy stepped away from Janet quickly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Ney problem,” Janet said quietly, “yoo ken Ah said Ah woods nae say nae?”

“But only after the match,” frantically Buffy tried to steer the conversation round to a safe subject like football, “and we’ve got training this afternoon, got to save our strength, right?”

Leading the way, Buffy went back to the kitchen to find everyone just standing around doing nothing.

“Come on people,” Buffy called loudly, “Sunday dinner doesn’t cook itself!”

Slowly everyone went back to work.

0=0=0=0

**Later the same day.**

Sitting on a box in the middle of the football field, Norma watched as the members of ‘Slade United’ ran around the football field.

“Come on Oaksey,” she called to the woman who was having difficulty keeping up, “you’re lagging!”

Billie Oaks was indeed lagging well behind the rest of the team and Norma was wondering why Groutie was so insistent on her being in the first eleven.

“Come on Oaksey,” Norma called again, “shift y’self.”

Stumbling along behind the rest of the team, Oaks looked as if she was about to have a heart attack; unlike Buffy who looked as if she could run around the pitch all day. Glancing down at the book on coaching that Norma had acquired from the prison library, she decided that they’d done everything that it said she should in the book, so it was about time to call a halt to the training session, anyway it would be teatime soon.

“All right you lot,” Norma stood up and picked up her box as she headed towards the edge of the field, “that’s enough for today get away to the showers.”

There was a ragged cheer from the players as they stopped running and started to walk wearily back to the prison block. All except Buffy that is who trotted up to Norma seemingly as fresh as a daisy. Norma looked at her in something approaching disgust.

“How come all the other nerks look knackered an’ you look like you’ve just got out of bed?” Norma wanted to know.

“Lucky, I suppose,” Buffy smiled, “unlike old Oaksey there.” Buffy nodded to where the other woman was slowly following everyone else back to the block. “Not that I want to appear to be telling you your job, coach,” Buffy grinned up at her friend, “but I hope you’re not going to put her on the team.”

“Ah, well,” Norma hesitated.

“Ah-well what?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

“Well,” Norma said quietly as they were counted back into the cell block by the screw on the gate, “you see Groutie was quite insistent that Oaksey was on the team.”

“Groutie is it?” Buffy’s face set in a hard stare and Norma thought she could hear Buffy’s teeth grinding together.

“Here,” Norma said in a worried tone of voice, “I hope you’re not going to do anything foolish.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Buffy replied.

“I’m not!” Norma said as if surprised by the very idea, “I know you can look after y’self, I’m worried about what might happen to me!”

“Don’t worry,” Buffy smiled reassuringly, “I won’t let Groutie do anything to you.”

0=0=0=0

Having to shower with twenty-plus young women was starting to get very frustrating for Buffy, particularly when Janet McLaren’s lithe body and coffee coloured skin was only a mere arm’s length away. Thinking that perhaps she’d made a mistake not using Willow’s spell, Buffy completed her shower in double quick time then headed on back to her cell. Here she found Norma reading her football coaching book; walking into the cell, still drying her hair, Buffy didn’t at first notice the two mugs of tea and the plate of bread and jam already sitting on the table.

“What’s going on here?” Buffy asked as she gestured to the food and drink.

“Don’t know,” Norma looked up from her book, “one of the nerks from down the landing brought it in a couple of minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Buffy was surprised, but she sat down anyway and started to spread margarine and jam on two pieces of bread to make herself a jam sandwich.

“Yes,” Norma put down her book and picked up her tea, “people seem to have got it into their heads that you’re goin’ to ‘do’ something about Groutie.”

“Wonder how they got that idea?” Buffy replied innocently.

“Perhaps it’s the way your teeth move from side to side and steam comes out y’ears every time ‘er name’s mentioned,” Norma pointed out, “that might’ve given people a clue.”

“Did you get rid of that stuff,” Buffy asked changing the subject.

“Yeah I flushed it this morning,” Norma explained, “Look, Buffy there’s a delicate balance of terror in this nick, I don’t want you going and upsetting it.” Norma put down her tea and looked at Buffy pleadingly, “Look say you beat the crap out of Groutie, but she’ll only up the stakes, she still has friends on the outside…she could get to that sister of yours…”

“I’d like to see her try,” Buffy laughed almost spraying the table with half eaten jam sandwich, “anyone who went after my Dawnie would regret it. Having Faith, that’s her girlfriend, killing them would be the least of their worries.”

“You’re a bloody old one, Buffy Summers,” Norma seemed to be studying Buffy very closely, “just who the naffin’ ‘ell are you? Cause you’re certainly not like any ordinary cat-burglar I’ve ever met before.”

“Maybe,” Buffy stood up and finished her tea, “one day I’ll tell you all about myself, but in the mean time…” Buffy glanced at the door, “...I’ve got a scrote to see about a packet of white powder and then I’ve got bigger scrote to fry.”

“Please Buffy…” Norma began but found herself talking to an empty cell.

0=0=0=0

Sitting at her desk, Miss Barrowclough was filling in the daily occurrence book when she heard a long drawn out scream coming from further down the landing. Looking up she started to go and investigate; she’d not taken more than a couple of steps when she noticed something unusual; none of the inmates nearby had reacted to the scream. No one had even looked up to see what was going on; no one had looked at her to see if she was going to investigate. In fact everyone was acting as if nothing had happened; Miss Barrowclough started to doubt that she’d actually heard anything in the first place. Glancing around at the normal Sunday evening activities, Miss Barrowclough decided that perhaps things were starting to get on top of her. What with the strain of the job and her far from happy home situation, perhaps she’d been hearing things. Slowly, Barrowclough stopped, turned around and went back to her desk. Sitting down she picked up her pen and began writing again.

0=0=0=0

Coming out of Harris’ cell, Buffy walked nonchalantly over to where Janet McLaren stood.

“Thanks, Janet,” Buffy took one of Janet’s hands in her own and squeezed it affectionately, “and tell everyone else thanks, okay?”

“Aur ye sure ye dinnae need onie help?” Janet asked softly.

“No I’m good,” Buffy smiled, “now I want you to go somewhere where the screws can see you, I don’t want you mixed up in this, okay?”

“But…!” Janet was about to complain but Buffy shut her up by putting a finger across her lips.

“Later, okay?” Buffy promised as she walked towards Groutie’s cell.

0=0=0=0

“Move!” Buffy poked Samson in the chest as she stood guarding Groutie’s door.

“It’s alright, Sammie,” Groutie’s voice came from inside the cell, “go get y’self a cup of tea, Miss Summers and I have a few things to discuss.”

Reluctantly Samson moved away from the door and walked off down the landing towards the recreation area.

“Come in Miss Summers,” Groutie called from inside, “I’ve been expecting you.”

As Buffy walked into the cell she paused to let Delilah out and take in the unashamed luxury of the cell’s appointments.

“Naffin’ hell,” Buffy exclaimed wide eyed as she looked around the cell, it was almost as well equipped as her chalet back at Slayer Central.

For a moment Buffy wondered if a life of crime wouldn’t have been better than the life she’d led; after all they both seemed to have landed her in jail.

“Alright, slayer,” Groutie almost growled, “I’m sure you’ve not come here to admire the décor, what d’you want?”

“Slayer?” Buffy tried to sound as if she didn’t know what Groutie was talking about.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it, Summers,” Groutie got up from her armchair and crossed the room to a table where a kettle and tea things lay, “I suspected you were a slayer when you took out Slasher Smythe and her girls so easily.” Groutie switched on the kettle and spooned tea leaves into a teapot, “But I never suspected that I’d meet the famous, or from my perspective, the infamous Buffy Summers,” Groutie watched the kettle start to boil, “how the mighty have fallen.”

“So,” Buffy moved towards the door to check there was no one outside listening in on their conversation, “what are you? You can’t be a vamp ‘cause I’ve seen you in daylight.”

“Oh,” Groutie smiled as she poured boiling water into the pot, “I’m just a demon,” she put down the kettle and stirred the tea before putting the lid on the pot, “and not a very important one, I admit. But one thing I think you should know,” Groutie smiled showing way too many teeth, “I’m not the sort that turns to goo if I’m killed. So, you better remember that if you slay me you’re going to be left with a very human looking body to try and explain,” Groutie gestured with the teapot, “Tea?”

“Thanks,” Buffy sighed; her plan to kill Groutie would have to be put on hold, “milk, two sugars please.”

“So, Buffy, can I call you that?” Groutie poured the tea into china cups and added milk and sugar.

“No I’d rather you called me ‘Summers’, okay?” Buffy accepted the cup and saucer from Groutie.

“Look,” Groutie moved across the room to sit in her chair again; she gestured for Buffy to take a seat in another not so comfortable looking one, “I’m just a low level demon, I do crime, okay? I do violence too, but nothing more than your average human crime-lord.” Groutie sipped her tea, “Every month or so I need to suck on someone’s dreams, but I don’t kill anyone and they recover…usually.”

“And you’re gonna ask me to let you carry on as before?” Buffy tried her tea; it was very good much better than the prison issue tea.

“No,” Groutie shook her head slowly, “I know you can’t let that happen, but…”

“But?” Buffy raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“I was hoping we could come to some sort of arrangement,” Groutie put down her cup and saucer on the little table next to her chair.

“What sort of arrangement?” Buffy wanted to know.

“The sort that lets us both live,” Groutie smiled, “Believe me when I say that if you killed me your friends and family would suffer,” Groutie waved Buffy’s denials into silence. “I know all about your slayers and witches, but even they can be got at. The people I know can kill them before they even know they’re in danger, but I know if I threatened them you’d kill me whatever the consequences and I’d rather go on living,” Groutie flashed all those sharp looking teeth again, “I think they called it, ‘Mutually Assured Destruction’ back in the cold war. No I’d rather have a treaty, one we can both live with.”

“Okay,” Buffy felt like she’d been out manoeuvred; life used to be so much simpler when demons didn’t act logically, “what do you want?”

0=0=0=0


	13. Chapter 13

13.

“You still alive then?” Norma asked as Buffy returned to their cell after her meeting with Groutie.

“Sure,” Buffy replied distractedly; she had the strangest feeling that somehow, Groutie had got the better of her.

“No broken bones or anything?” Norma put down her paper and swung her legs over the side of her bunk so she could see Buffy more clearly.

“All in one piece,” Buffy confirmed, she sat down at the table and looked at the mug of tea in her hand not knowing where and when she’d got it.

Jumping down from her bunk, Norma came to sit next to Buffy and studied her closely.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Norma asked concerned.

“Y-you know that feeling you get when you’ve forgotten something important and can’t remember what it is?” Buffy looked at her friend with confused eyes.

“Yeah,” Norma nodded her head more than a little confused by what Buffy was saying.

“Well, that’s how I feel now,” Buffy admitted; she’d gone into Groutie’s cell determined to kill her or at the very least lay down the law and stop her from doing whatever it was she was doing, but then…

But then, Groutie had been so ‘nice’ and ‘reasonable’, the gangster had even given her a cup of tea, it’d all been so civilised.

“So?” Norma asked Buffy expectantly.

”So?” Buffy felt like she was a thousand miles away.

“Naffin’ ‘ell, Buffy,” Norma said urgently, “tell me what happened?”

Shaking her head to clear it of the cotton wool that had somehow wrapped itself around her brain, Buffy took a mouthful of the awful prison tea. The hot, sweet tea seemed to revive her a little as it burnt its way through some of the woolliness that clogged up her mind. Turning to face Norma she saw the worried look on her friend’s face. Smiling reassuringly, Buffy put down her tea and folded her hands on the table in front of her.

“Okay,” Buffy took a deep breath, she was feeling slightly better now, “Groutie’s agreed to lay off you and Janet, she’s also agreed not to try and hurt me in anyway.” 

For a moment Buffy frowned, she was the slayer why should she feel grateful that some demon had promised not to try and hurt her? Shouldn’t that be the other way around?

“She’s also promised not to have anyone else on this wing…” Buffy paused for a moment trying to think of the right word, “Erm…punished, without my prior agreement.”

“That’s big of ‘er,” Norma commented.

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Buffy agreed distantly, the cotton wool in her head had returned. 

“So what do we have to do to deserve such largess?” Norma asked, “I mean she’s promised not to have anyone’s legs broken, she must want something instead.”

“Oaksey,” Buffy replied once some of the wool had gone away again.

“Oaksey?” Norma repeated wondering what anything had to do with the god awful footballer.

“She’s still got to play in the football match,” Buffy announced; Groutie had told her it was very important, but she couldn’t remember why.

“But she’s naffin’ useless, you said so y’self,” Norma pointed out.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed with a slightly dream-like quality to her voice, “but she’s still got to play.”

“Buffy,” Norma looked at her friend closely and laid her hand on Buffy’s arm, “are you sure you’re feeling okay? You didn’t get hit over the ‘ead or somethin’, did you?”

“I’m fine,” Buffy gave her cell-mate a tied smile, “You’re fussing like an old mother hen; look Groutie wants Oaksey to play, but only in the first half, we’ll manage.”

“Well, if it’s only for the first half,” Norma grumbled, “I suppose we can manage,” Norma sighed heavily before asking, “That can’t be all she wants.”

“No,” Buffy picked up her tea and sipped at the sweet, brown liquid, “she says that every now and again she might ask us for favours,” Buffy saw the look of horror on Norma’s face and quickly added, “in return for payment of course.”

“Favours? Payment?” Norma was beginning to think that Groutie had managed to get something over on Buffy or threaten her friends and family; she really couldn’t see how they were better off than they were before.

“Nothing major,” Buffy pointed out, “nothing that would get us into serious trouble, but it’s all part of the deal.”

A little voice at the back of Buffy’s mind was telling her once again that she was _The Slayer_ she didn’t _have_ to do anything that any demon told her to. The voice was soon muffled into silence as the cotton wool returned and wrapped her brain in a warm comforting blanket.

“Buffy?” Norma’s voice seemed to come from a very long way away.

“Hmm?” Buffy looked at her friend without really seeing her.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Norma saw that Buffy’s eyes had gone blank as if she wasn’t at home, “Do you want me to call the MO?”

“No,” Buffy shook her head, suddenly Buffy felt like everything was getting too much for her and she wanted to tell Norma about everything; about being the slayer, about how lonely she felt sometimes, how she sometimes felt that being in prison was an improvement on what her life had been before, “Norma,” Buffy felt the tears start to sting her eyes, it was no good she’d have to let some of it out, “remember we went on that work detail?”

“Yeah,” Norma replied wondering why Buffy was bringing this up now, “the one where we nearly all got killed by ‘orrible fish-monsters….how could I forget?”

“I never told you why we were sent on that, did I?” Buffy’s voice had faded to a low monotone.

“I always thought it was because you were giving Mackay a happy in the store room or something,” Norma laughed trying to lighten the mood; in reality she was really worried about her friend and was thinking of going to the screws and getting the MO whatever Buffy said.

“Remember that screw Beal?” Buffy asked her face showing no emotion as the tears started to trickle down her face.

“Yeah,” Norma said slowly, “the one that left suddenly.”

“Y’know why she left?” Buffy asked as Norma shook her head and reached for her hand. “She raped me with her truncheon!” Buffy burst out as she broke down in tears and blurted out the entire story.

Having been in a lot of nicks over the years, Buffy’s story didn’t surprise Norma; she’d heard of similar things happening before. But that knowledge didn’t help reduce the feelings of shook and disgust she felt now. Moving her chair so it was besides Buffy’s, Norma put her arm around the younger woman’s shoulder and tried to comfort her as she fought to keep her own tears in check.

“She hurt me, Norma,” Buffy shoulder’s shook, “I was so frightened, more frightened than I’d ever been in a long, long time not since my Mom…”

“There-there, luv,” Norma felt that anything she said would be inadequate right now.

“Sometimes I’m so lonely and scared,” Buffy sobbed, “I just want to be little girl again so my mom can hug all the bad things away….I miss her so much, Norma.”

Letting Buffy cry herself out as she told her the full story, Norma thought it was best not to say anything for a while; she’d not been the best mother in the world to her own kids. Although she loved them, she’d not exactly been there for them over the years. Perhaps looking out for Buffy was her chance to make up for it in some way.

“A-and y-you say,” Norma couldn’t keep the tremors from her voice as she tried to comfort her friend, “Mackay beat the crap outta her?”

“Think so,” Buffy wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Who’d have thought it,” Norma lifted Buffy’s face up so she was looking into her eyes, “and there was me thinking you were sleeping with ‘er.”

“No,” Buffy forced a laugh and sniffed as she wiped her eyes again, “she’s not my type, too regimental.”

“But you’ll overlook the entire being Scottish thing,” Norma let go of Buffy’s shoulder as she saw her friend begin to recover and start to return to being the cheerful young woman she’d grown to love, in a purely mother/daughter way, she added quickly to herself.

“But of course,” Buffy stood up and went to her cupboard, “we’re not all anti-Scot around here.”

Collecting something from her cupboard Buffy turned and placed a box of sweets on the table in front of Norma.

“What’s this?” Norma asked suspiciously.

“Liquorish Allsorts,” Buffy replied, “I know you like them.”

“Do you know how much a whole box of Allsorts is worth?” Norma picked up the box and saw that it was unopened.

“Quite a bit,” Buffy came and sat down again, she was trying to act as if the previous thirty minutes had never happened.

“This is a major bribe,” Norma looked at Buffy but showed no sign of refusing the candy, “what do you want?”

“Nothing,” Buffy replied innocently, “its sort of a thank-you and a ‘sorry’ all rolled into one.”

“Oh naffin’ ‘ell, Buffy,” Norma ran her hand across her face, “what have you done now?”

“For dumping on you like that,” Buffy explained.

“Is that all,” Norma laughed with relief, “for a moment I thought you were going to tell me you’d done it with the entire Brigade of Guards.”

“Huh?” Buffy wasn’t sure what Norma was talking about.

“Sorry,” Norma frowned for a moment, “shouldn’t make light of that sort of thing, under the circumstances.”

“What sort of thing?” Buffy wanted to know, “And who are these Brigade of Guards?”

“Never mind,” Norma tried to steer the conversation back to safer subjects like her cell-mate being gay. “Look Buffy the way you and McLaren carry on makes it a bit obvious, Buffy Summers being gay is probably the worst kept secret in Slade nick.”

“We do not ‘carry on’,” Buffy objected stridently her earlier tears forgotten, “I thought we were quite discreet and anyway we’ve not ‘done’ anything…”

“Yet,” Norma finished Buffy’s sentence for her; this was more like the Buffy she knew. “Like I say, I had noticed and I’m not cross…”

“Just disappointed?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“Not even disappointed,” Norma replied, “I’m sure you have your reasons…” Norma remembered the lonely hopelessness in Buffy’s eyes as she’s poured out her hurt to her, “like I said before, the screws don’t approve of girls getting together like that so watch yourselves.”

“We will,” Buffy assured her.

“And no climbing into my bunk if you’re feeling lonely.”

“I won’t,” Buffy promised, “friends forever?”

“Of course,” Norma stood up her hand firmly on the box of Allsorts, “where else would I get stuff like this,” she held up the sweets before putting them into her cupboard.

“Come on,” Buffy stood up and collected her washing things, “it’ll be lock up soon.”

“Yeah,” Norma sighed, “the end of another surprising day at Slade prison.”

“You know, Norma,” Buffy paused in the door as she waited for her friend, “sometimes I could be happy without all the surprises.

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

“Come in,” Giles looked up as the door to his office opened, “Ah Dawn,” Giles smiled at the young woman as she crossed the carpeted floor towards him, “take a seat,” he gestured to one of the leather visitors chairs in front of his highly polished mahogany desk, “I just wanted to check some facts with you if you’re not too busy.”

“Totally,” Dawn nodded her head and looked around Giles office; it seemed to her that Giles’ office got ‘posher’ every time she visited it. “I was just waiting around for Faith anyway; she’ll be a while yet.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Giles looked up from the files on his desk, “how is Faith managing with the paperwork and the like?”

“Fine,” Dawn reassured her old friend, “of course Maggie’s been a big help,” Dawn smiled, “I think it must be all her army training or something, she’s got everything organised so all Faith has to do is make the decisions and sign stuff.”

“And Faith’s not having any problems making those decisions?” Giles put down his pen and shuffled the files into a neat pile, “Or…”

“Signing her name?” Dawn finished what she thought Giles was going to say, “Faith isn’t stupid y’know…”

“Of course not,” Giles tried to placate Dawn.

“It just that she’s action-girl orientated not paperwork-girl orientated,” Dawn continued the defence of her girlfriend, “she knows to ask if she doesn’t understand stuff or isn’t sure, but she’s doing Buffy’s job, no problems, okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I mentioned it,” chastened Giles took a deep breath, “I only ask because…” Giles paused as if trying to find the right words to express him, “...because it’s not looking too good for Buffy.”

“No!” Dawn’s face fell, “Why?”

“How is Buffy, by the way,” Giles employed a minor stalling tactic so he could put off telling Dawn what he’d discovered for a little while longer, “has she written to you lately?”

“Yeah,” Dawn nodded her head sadly, “she sounds okay and when I saw her last she looked fine. Y’know, like healthy and she seems to be totally handling the being locked up…”

“Do you think she’d be able to, erm,” Giles removed his glasses so he wouldn’t have to see Dawn’s face too clearly, “cope with serving her full term out? I’m sure she’ll get full remission so she’ll be out in another three or four years…”

“WHAT!?” Dawn shrieked making Giles wince, “What do you mean, Giles, I thought we were going to…”

“Break her out?” Giles finished Dawn’s sentence for her, “Well that may not be an option anymore.”

“Why?” Dawn demanded, “What have you found out? You don’t really think that Buffy did all those things, do you?”

“Of course not,” Giles sighed and replaced his glasses, “it’s just that I’ve discovered that the Home Office unearthed a few things about Buffy’s past that it was best they didn’t know about.”

“Like?” Demanded Dawn.

“The episode with ‘Ted’; Kendra’s murder,” Giles said sadly.

“But she was never charged with anything,” Dawn replied vehemently.

“I know,” Giles agreed, “but to the untutored eye, Buffy’s past is more than a little chequered.”

“Chequered?” Dawn snapped, “We’re, like, playing games now?”

“Look,” Giles decided to come clean and explain everything he’d found out, “even if this was all Ethan’s idea, his idea of a little joke just to throw us into confusion. There’s things he’d have needed to know that he couldn’t have found out without official help.”

“Official help?” Dawn stared at Giles as the consequences of his words sunk into her brain, “what do you mean ‘official help’?”

“Rayne isn’t Willow,” Giles pointed out, “he hasn’t got the abilities to root through all the records to dig up the information he appears to have found. He must have had help from someone in the British or American governments, maybe both.”

“Oh my god,” Dawn said quietly, “so you’re saying that we might not be able to get Buffy out…legally I mean?”

“Yes,” Giles nodded his head slowly, “and I’m beginning to think that getting her out illegally might not be such a good idea either. It hurts me to say this, but I think we’re going to have to leave Buffy in prison until her sentence is served.”

“No Giles, we can’t,” Dawn was close to tears, “if we break her out we can send her away somewhere, Willow could disguise her and…”

“Don’t you think I’ve haven’t thought about that?” Giles said sadly, “Governments have long arms and even longer memories, plus, so it appears, access to magic. I have a feeling that whatever we do will turn out badly. I’m not giving up hope, but I think you need to prepare yourself to accept that Buffy is going to be away for some time yet.”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

Standing in the showers, Buffy could feel the hot water beat against her skin. Walking slowly across the steamy room she became aware of an indistinct figure standing only a few yards away. Somehow Buffy knew who it was and rushed towards the woman through the mist.

“Buffy!” Janet stopped running the soap over her smooth, coffee coloured skin and turned to face Buffy.

“Janet,” Buffy felt her voice catch in her throat as she took in the younger woman’s beauty.

Stepping into each others arms, Buffy felt her lips on Janet’s, her breasts squeezed up against the Scot’s girl’s as their hands roamed urgently over each others bodies. Slowly without breaking apart the lowered themselves to the floor.

Every time Janet moved, Buffy could feel her lovely breasts sliding over her torso; she loved Janet's breasts they were so firm and her nipples so hard, she tried to fondle them. But she couldn't focus when Janet's tongue sought entry to her mouth; or when Janet’s mouth traced down her neck leaving tiny bites in her wake. Writhing under her girlfriend when she felt Janet take a nipple into her mouth and flick her tongue over and over her, Buffy screamed as her climax washed over her.

0=0=0=0

Sitting in the dark in her cell, Groutie smiled and licked her lips at the taste of the slayer’s passion. Today was the best meal she’d had in sometime; anger, fear, sorrow love and now lust; even if the lust wasn’t ‘real’ it was heart felt. Of course she’d lied to the slayer, she was, after all, a demon it was almost an unbreakable rule that she should lie. 

What had surprised Groutie the most was the ease with which the slayer had fallen for her story. How easily she’d been tricked and how effective the magic potion in the tea had been. Some how she’d always thought it would be harder to fool a slayer; she’d also heard that the slayer was resistant to magic. But, as it happened the slayer had fallen for her honeyed words as easily as any normal human would. In fact Groutie was just a little disappointed that it hadn’t been more of a challenge.

Sitting in the dark, Groutie smiled, now she had an ‘access all areas’ pass to the slayers dreams, she could even influence them a little but she preferred to see what the slayer dreamt about without any input from herself. What the slayer desired most of all was, much to Groutie’s surprise, Janet McLaren the pretty Scots girl from down the landing. Oh-well, Groutie shrugged, there was no accounting for taste; she glanced once more into the slayers mind as she writhed in her dreams, her passion mounting to an almost unbearable peak, any moment now…

Gasping in sympathetic pleasure, Groutie joined in with Buffy and Janet’s climax as they lay in the dream shower together. Yes, thought Groutie, with meals like this she could give up the poor fare she got from the other prisoners, or at least cut back. It wouldn’t do to over do the dreams with Buffy; she might begin to suspect and break the hex that Groutie had put on her. If the slayer ever found out what she’d done to her, Groutie’s life would be over very quickly and that would be bad. Groutie had no intention of dying anytime soon, she’d got used to this life she’d built for herself over the centuries. After the first thousand years or so, life became something of a habit that was hard to break.

0=0=0=0


	14. Chapter 14

14.

**Slade Prison.**

Alone in the cell, Norma sat at the table and tried to read her book. It was early Sunday afternoon and Buffy was still in the Kitchen supervising the clean up after Sunday lunch. Football training wasn’t until later that afternoon and Norma really wanted to read something that wasn’t about football. In the two weeks that she’d been the unwilling coach of ‘Slade United’ she’d learnt more about football than she thought was proper for a woman of her age. Smiling to herself she imagined the look on her ‘old man’s’ face when she explained the ‘offside rule’ to him, so she didn’t notice Bunny Warren walk into the cell behind her.

“What y’readin’ Fletch?” Bunny asked from just inside the cell; Bunny was a sweet girl but wasn’t exactly the brightest fifty-pence in the till, which of course was why she was in nick doing time and her ‘boyfriend’ was on the outside screwing anything that was even remotely female.

Sighing heavily, Norma picked up the book and turned it over in her hands.

“A book,” she said succinctly as she rested back on the table and attempted to continue reading.

“No, silly” Bunny wandered further into the cell, “I mean what sorta book?”

“A paperback sorta book,” Norma replied desperately trying to resume reading her novel.

“Is it a good book?” Bunny sat down on the edge of Buffy’s bunk.

“Don’t know until I’ve finished reading it, do I?” Norma was starting to believe that she would never, in fact, finish reading her book unless she got herself a couple of days in solitary. “Might turn out rotten in the end and I shan’t finish it either with all these continual interruptions.”

“I’d read books if I could read,” Bunny announced. 

Raising her head from the pages of her book, Norma glanced over her shoulder to look at Bunny, rolled her eyes to herself and then tried to get back to her volume.

“Is it a dirty book?” Bunny wanted to know.

“Yeah filthy,” Norma replied flatly. “I dropped it in a puddle coming back from lunch today.”

“Readin’ a book Fletch?” came a Scots voice from the doorway; Norma looked up to see Janet McLaren standing in the cell door her hands thrust firmly into the pockets of her cook’s whites.

“No!” Norma snapped, she was beginning to lose her temper, “I’m ironing; and if you’re looking for your love interest, Buffy’s not back from the kitchen yet.”

Once again Norma tried to get back to her reading as Janet walked softly into the cell; she passed silently behind Norma and bent to look over her shoulder to see what she was reading. Not realising that the Scots girl was next to her Norma turned slightly, caught a glimpse of Janet out of the corner of her eye and jumped in surprise.

“Gawd!” Norma cried, “Don’t do that!” she sighed heavily, “I’m going to have Buffy put a bell ‘round your neck so I can ‘ear you coming,” Norma thought about what she’d just said and qualified it, “Mind you the way you an’ Buffy go at it, hammer and tongs I’m surprised everyone on the wing doesn’t hear you coming!”

“Mandingo,” Janet ignored everything Norma had said and lifted the cover of the book to read the title, “What’s that about then?”

“It’s about slaves in the Deep South, picking cotton,” by now Norma had just about given up on trying to read.

“My ancestors were from the Caribbean,” McLaren informed her, “or at least half of them were.”

“I thought slaves were in Roman times,” Bunny piped up from over on Buffy’s bunk, “and they were white, I know they were, I’ve seen them in films set in Roman times I have.”

Groaning to herself, Norma rubbed her face and wondered if this was some new kind of punishment thought up by Mackay; being trapped in a cell with two ignorant nerks who wouldn’t let her finish her book.

“They always had slaves in ‘em,” a far away look came into Bunny’s eyes, “and Rosana Pedesta and Steve Reeve,” Bunny continued not noticing the look of despair Norma was giving her, “Have you seen Jason and the Golden Fleas?”

“I think ‘fleece’ is the word you had in mind,” Norma pointed out tiredly, “if you had a mind to have it in.”

“What was that other one?” Bunny continued completely ignoring Norma’s put down, “‘Jason and the Astronauts’, I loved that one!”

“Och no, Bunny,” McLaren called out from the other side of the cell, “you mean, ‘Jason and the Juggernauts’!”

“Nah,” Bunny shook her head, “they were a punk band weren’t they?”

“Oh gawd,” Norma felt like weeping, or doing bodily violence.

“I saw that film…” McLaren began but was interrupted by Norma.

“Hold on, this is where I came in,” Norma cried bringing the conversation to a halt, “I remember it was when Rod Steiger hit Sidney Poitier over the head with a mug of tea,” Norma brandished her tea mug at Janet, “because he wouldn’t let him finish his book!”

“Sorry, Fletch,” Janet apologised quickly, “I meant nothing by it…”

“Never mind,” Norma got up, book in one hand and mug of tea in the other, “I’m off to punch a screw, perhaps I can get some peace and quiet in solitary.”

Just as she was about to leave the cell she bumped into Buffy coming the other way.

“Thank gawd you’re ‘ere Buffy,” Norma sighed with relief, “throw these nerks out, they’re doing my ‘ead in!”

“Okay guys,” Buffy gathered up Bunny and Janet with her eye, “fun’s over, time to leave the oldies to their rest.”

“Sorry, Fletch,” Bunny headed for the door; Buffy stood aside to let her pass.

“Yeah, sorry Fletch,” Janet headed for the door.

This time instead of standing aside, Buffy got in Janet’s way forcing her to squeeze by. As their bodies touched, Buffy grinned up into the Scot’s girl’s eyes.

“See you later,” Buffy promised in a whisper.

“Naffin’ ‘ell, Buffy,” Norma climbed up onto her bunk once Buffy and herself were the only ones left in the cell, “one of these days, Mackay is going to catch you and ‘Flora MacDonald’ at it. Then it won’t matter if you’re Mackay’s blue eyed girl, you’ll be lucky if you’re just transferred to another wing.”

“Stop worrying,” Buffy came fully into the cell.

Pushing the door closed Buffy started to take off her whites, which were looking decidedly grey just at the moment. Slipping out of her dress, she walked over to the wash stand, poured some water into the bowl and started to wash her hands, underarms and face while Norma watched her.

“What was all that about?” Buffy asked as she dried her face.

“Oh nothin’ really,” Norma admitted, “I was just trying to read that’s all.”

“I’ll have a word if you like,” Buffy volunteered.

“Nah, don’t trouble y’self about it,” Norma rested her back against the wall, “So,” Norma injected some levity into her voice, “what’s the news from wonderful world of culinary delights that is Slade prison kitchen?”

“Guess who totally organised the lunches all by herself?” Buffy asked as she started to search out her football strip.

“Was it by any chance, your good self?” Norma asked; Buffy nodded her head proudly, “What was that pudding all about then?”

“Tapioca,” Buffy pulled her shorts and shirt from her cupboard.

“Oh,” Norma sounded surprised, “that’s what it was? ‘Ere you couldn’t smuggle a dollop back here for me, could you?”

“Yeah,” Buffy pulled her shirt over her head, “Why, did you like it that much?”

“No,” Norma jumped down from her bunk and started to look around for her own sports clothes, “I just want to use it to stick down the sole of me shoes with!”

“I’ll totally ignore that, Norma,” Buffy pulled on her shorts and then started to search for her trainers, “it’s like tapioca off a ducks back.”

“OOOEAGH!” a blood curdling scream floated into the cell from somewhere out on the wing.

“What was that?” Buffy looked up from tying up her shoe laces.

“Maybe someone was being force fed more of your tapioca,” Norma replied lightly.

“Look,” Buffy said only slightly annoyed at her friend’s baiting, “I totally do the best I can with the ingredients I’m given.”

Just then Genial Harriet Grout appeared in the doorway.

“Oh,” Norma looked up at her latest visitor, “that explains the scream, then,” she looked at Buffy, “It’s getting like Victoria Station in ‘ere.”

Watching the demon carefully, Buffy noticed Samson’s shadow out on the landing, Groutie hadn’t come alone.

“‘Ello, Fletcher,” Groutie smiled insincerely before turning slightly to nod at Buffy, “‘Ello, Summers.”

“Well,” Norma put herself between Buffy and Fletcher there by preventing any friction between the two women, “this is a rare privilege, innit?” Norma paused as she took a deep breath, “What do y’want Groutie?”

Turning to Samson, Groutie told ‘her’ to shut the door before going to sit down at Buffy and Norma’s table.

“Sit down, Fletch,” Groutie produced a large cigar, lit it and blew smoke across the cell, Buffy coughed slightly as the smoke billowed up in her face, “and you Summer’s this involves you as well.”

“Like Norma said,” Buffy growled from over by the bunk bed, “what do you want Groutie?”

“There’s no need to sound like that,” Groutie spread her arms innocently, “I mean I’ve kept to my side of the bargain,” a tone of menace entered Groutie’s voice, “now it’s your turn to keep yours.”

“Yeah I ‘spose that’s true,” Norma admitted reluctantly, “you’ve not had anyone’s legs broken for all of two weeks,” Norma’s voice took on her own tone of menace, “so what do you want?”

“A bicycle,” Groutie replied simply.

“A bicycle?” Buffy couldn’t quite believe her ears.

“Thinking of entering the Tour de France, are we?” Norma asked before wanting to know; “Where the naffin’ ‘ell do you think we can get a naffin’ bicycle from, before we even start to wonder what the naffin’ ‘ell you want it for!”

“Look,” Groutie leaned across the table towards Norma, just as Norma leaned away, “none of my people can get one,” Groutie confided, “but what with you working on the farm and Summers ‘ere in the kitchens…well,” Groutie leaned back again and smiled showing far too many teeth, “you’ve got more freedom of movement, ain’t you.”

“Yeah, alright,” Norma agreed, “I suppose that’s true.”

“What’s in for us, Groutie?” Buffy demanded, “We’re not doing this for free, remember you don’t jerk us about and I won’t rip your heart out.”

“Now, now, now,” Groutie held up her hands defensively, “there’s no need for that sort of talk, this is strictly business. What do you want?”

“I’ll tell you that after we see whether we can find what you’re after,” Norma said as she stood up, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got football practice to go to,” she pointed out, “only two more weeks to the match an’ your Oaksey is still naffin’ awful!”

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

“Giles!” bursting into Giles’ office without knocking Willow almost made Giles drop the antique whisky decanter he was holding.

“Willow!” Giles carefully replaced the decanter on his desk, “What’s wrong?”

“Giles,” Willow rushed across Giles’ office brandishing a sheaf of papers in her hand, “have you still got the original hard copy of that report I downloaded from the National Police Data Base about Buffy?” Willow watched Giles’ eyes glaze over and added, “You know the one that claimed she was some sorta cat-burglar-woman?”

“Yes I think so,” Giles moved several piles of files around his desk while Willow stood impatiently tapping her foot.

Although, Willow had installed a computer on Giles’ desk, it just sat there gathering dust, there was no escaping it, Giles was a paper document man and nothing Willow could do or say would change that.

“Here we are,” Giles handed the document to Willow, “what’s wrong?”

“Hold on a minute,” Willow started to spread pages out across Giles’ large, expensive, mahogany desk. “AHA!” Willow said after a few moments searching, “I thought as much!”

“Thought as much, what?” Giles signed as he reached for his glasses, “Please tell me what you’re talking about Willow, I have this dream about going home sometime tonight.”

“Look,” Willow started to pick up and organise the documents she’d been looking at, “I downloaded a new copy of the NPDB report, I wanted to check something,” Willow waved the sheets of paper about as she started to pace up and down in front of Giles’ desk. “I’d only been looking at them for a while before I noticed they’d been changed…here.”

Passing Giles two sheets of paper, Willow waited while he read them.

“Good grief!” Giles gasped, “According to these, Buffy was committing burglaries and serving time in British prisons while we know she was in the States!”

“We’ve got them, Giles!” Willow cried excitedly, “They, whoever ‘they’ are have made a mistake, we can prove Buffy was in America she couldn’t have possibly committed those crimes.”

“Ah,” Giles said slowly as he thought of something, “but can we?”

“Can we what?” Willow frowned up into Giles’ face.

“Can we _prove_ Buffy was in Sunnydale when these crimes took place?”

“Oh crap!” Willow slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand as realisation struck. “All the computer records would have been lost when Sunnydale did a nose dive into the sea!” Willow frowned as she thought about the problem, “There might be some Federal records, but I doubt it.”

“There is one good thing about this,” Giles pointed out.

“There is?” Willow didn’t sound so sure.

“Its proof positive,” Giles explained, “that someone in the government wants Buffy in prison and out of the way for some reason.”

“I’ll do some more checking,” Willow announced sadly, she’d thought she’d found something that would get Buffy out of jail, “perhaps there’s something special about that prison she’d in.”

“Good idea,” Giles got up and walked around his desk, “if I were you I’d make it my first job in the morning.” Giles held up his hand cutting off Willow’s reply. “In the morning,” Giles repeated, “now go home to Kennedy, she’s probably missing you, you’ve spent so much time here recently. The poor girl probably thinks you’re trying to avoid her or something.”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, some days later.**

Finding herself being marched towards Buffy and Norma’s cell by a grim faced Miss Barrowclough, Janet McLaren wondered just how much trouble she was in. Herding Janet ahead of her, Miss Barrowclough walked into the cell and pushed the door closed behind her.

“What’s this, Miss Barrowclough?” Norma asked as she quickly closed the door to her cupboard, “Recreation time, innit?”

“Recreation time can wait,” Miss Barrowclough snapped angrily, “I’ve a very serious question to ask you three.”

“Why us three?” Buffy asked innocently as she buttoned up her prison dress.

“Because it was you three who were in the yard this morning when I arrived for work,” Barrowclough explained, “and it was you three who engaged me in a pointless discussion about the outcome of the ‘92 Cup Final.” Barrowclough paused to take a breath, “So, it’s you three I want to ask a very pertinent question…like, where’s my bike?”

“What bicycle is this then, Miss Barrowclough?” Norma asked nonchalantly.

“Well, it’s the one I cycle to work on,” Barrowclough replied.

“You’ve got a bike?” Buffy asked having finished putting on her dress and slipping on her shoes.

“Yes,” Barrowclough turned to face Buffy, “it’s the one I cycle to work on after the MO advised me to take more exercise.”

“I had a bike once, y’ken,” McLaren observed from over by the door, “when I were at school.”

“So did I,” Barrowclough pointed out, “now, what’s become of it?”

“Let me get this straight,” Buffy walked up to the screw, her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her dress, “prior to our conversation this morning, you were the owner of a bicycle?”

“That’s right, yes,” Barrowclough nodded her head urgently.

“And now you’re the former owner of a bicycle,” Buffy continued as she projected an air of hurt innocence.

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” agreed Miss Barrowclough.

“Let’s get this right,” Norma said from the other side of the cell, momentarily distracting Miss Barrowclough. “You’re saying you came to work this morning as a cyclist but will be going home as a pedestrian?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Miss Barrowclough agreed with growing frustration.

“And you are connecting, in some way,” Norma continued, “our discussion of the ‘92 Cup Final with the disappearance of your alleged bicycle?”

“There’s nothing ‘alleged about it,” Barrowclough replied defensively, “green it was.”

“When did you last see it?” Janet wanted to know.

“When I got off it,” Miss Barrowclough informed her shortly.

“Ah!” Norma lifted a finger to emphasise her point, “You’re sure you had it with you when you got off it?”

“Yeah,” Buffy rejoined the verbal assault on the lone screw, “if we were talking to you how could we have totally taken your bike?”

“It’s a well know diversionary tactic,” there was a definite hint of panic in Miss Barrowclough’s voice as she realised she was losing control of the situation; if she’d ever had any control over it in the first place.

“You know this all sounds very dodgy to me,” Norma sat down slowly at the table.

“Dodgy?” Repeated everyone else in the cell.

“Yeah,” Norma nodded her head wisely, “it’s got all the classic elements of an insurance swindle.”

Norma, Janet and Buffy all looked accusingly at Miss Barrowclough.

“H-how d-dare you!” Miss Barrowclough stuttered in a mixture of anger and surprise.

“How dare you accuse us of totally being bicycle thieves,” Buffy countered.

“I saw that film,” Janet volunteered, “it was a wonderful example o’ early neo-Italian realism.”

“You’re just as impossible as ever,” Barrowclough complained, “I had thought…” 

No one found out what Miss Barrowclough thought because she seemed to realise that she was on a hiding to nothing, she’d never get the truth out of these three.

“Come on McLaren,” Miss Barrowclough gestured towards the door.

“Where are we going?” Janet demanded laying on the butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth act with a trowel.

“Back to your cell,” Barrowclough guided Janet out the door, “I’m going to conduct a search and if I find anything remotely resembling a bicycle pump in your knickers you’re for it!”

Standing on the opposite side of the cell together, Buffy and Norma shared a look as the screw left their cell. Norma walked over to her cupboard, opening it they both admired the tinned fruit, cosmetics and candy Groutie had traded in return for Barrowclough’s bike.

“Just as well she didn’t look in ‘ere,” Norma observed, they’d not had time to split up the loot so it wouldn’t look so suspicious.

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed, “like we better find some place to hide it for a while.”

0=0=0=0

“Pull yourself together, Miss Barrowclough,” Miss Mackay said as the two prison officers shared a cup of tea in Mackey’s office, “you’ve only yourself to blame. You should never turn your back on them for a second!”

“I’ve always thought,” Miss Barrowclough replied weakly, “that the way to encourage trust was to show it.”

“They’re criminals, woman!” Mackay explained slowly.

“Even the Summers girl?” Barrowclough asked.

“Aye,” Mackay nodded her head sadly, “even her; if she wasn’t when she came in she will be by the time she leaves. Look, Miss Barrowclough,” Mackay lost some of her hectoring tone, she liked Barrowclough, but knew she wasn’t suited to this type of prison. “They take advantage of your lack of control, your lack of discipline and your gullibility.”

“Oh,” Miss Barrowclough put down her tea cup, “true I sometimes give them the benefit of the doubt…”

“Never do that,” Miss Mackay picked up her own cup and spooned in two sugars. “Rule one; any time an inmate makes a request, ask yourself; what’s she up to?” Mackay sipped her tea, “Even the simplest request must be viewed with mistrust and suspicion. A prisoner rearranges her underwear, you have to ask yourself what’s she hiding in her bra.”

“I know all about that,” Miss Barrowclough admitted, “but I never thought they’d steal a bicycle; they can’t conceal that in their bras.”

“Oh come on woman,” Mackay sighed, “you know what they’re like. Did we ever find out what happened to our billiard table?”

“Well,” Barrowclough picked up her tea cup again, “when they caught Bush after she escaped she _was_ wearing a rather fetching green two piece.”

“Look,” Mackay drained her cup, “They’ll have dismantled you bike in an instant, if you’re lucky you might find the rear light.”

“But it seems so pointless,” Barrowclough said slowly.

“No, there’s always a point,” Mackay replied, “there’s something going on somewhere,” she sighed heavily, “You know, Miss Barrowclough, I have a dream that one day I’ll come to work and find they’ve stolen the entire prison!”

0=0=0=0


	15. Chapter 15

15.

**‘The Devastatingly Modernised with Rotten Beer and a Surly Landlord Arms’, public house, Middlesbrough.**

Sipping her beer Maggie nodded her head in appreciation, that wasn’t such a bad pint after all, she thought; glancing around she was surprised there were so few people in the pub. In fact, Dawn, Faith, Kennedy and herself made up about fifty percent of the total clientèle.

“Okay,” Dawn put down her glass of wine and looked around the table at her fellow conspirators, “lets totally get this show on the road,” she nodded her head at Kennedy, “what you got Kennie?”

Picking up her handbag from the floor, Kennedy was wearing a daringly short skirt and dark glasses tonight as part of some sort of disguise; she searched around inside the bag for a moment eventually producing a small pill bottle. Flipping open the cap she shook a couple of pills into the palm of her hand.

“Look like Smarties,” Maggie observed as she studied the pills, “only black…and with skulls and crossbones on them.”

The three American women gave the ex-soldier a questioning look.

“Small chocolate sweets,” Maggie explained, “in a crisp candy coating. Popular with both small children and squaddies.”

“Squaddies?” Dawn asked.

“Tommy’s,” Maggie replied.

“Speak English, Maggie,” Dawn pleaded.

“Soldiers!” Maggie rolled her eyes, before adding, “Bleedin’ know-nothin’ Yanks!”

“Okay,” Faith spoke from the seat next to Dawn, “now we’ve got that sorted,” her gaze shifted to Kennedy, “what do these ‘Smarties’ do?”

“Right,” Kennedy replaced the pills into their bottle and put them away, “you realise that I’m risking being turned into something small and furry if Willow ever finds out I’ve taken these?” Everyone nodded their heads, “Okay, they need about an hour to take effect. When they do Buffy will get a high fever and develop a rash,” Kennedy couldn’t help smiling at the next set of symptoms, “Plus pustules, followed by vomiting and the runs…of course she won’t be able to run by then so things are likely to get very messy really quickly. These’ll really open the sluice gates at both ends,” she added with relish.

“There’s no need to look so happy about it,” Dawn pointed out, “this _is_ my sister you’re talking about, how long do the effects last?”

“She’ll start getting better after thirty-six hours,” Kennedy explained, “the magic will be completely out of her system after forty-eight hours, give or take.” Kennedy grinned not only because of the pain and embarrassment this would cause Buffy but because she had a really clever girlfriend and she was proud of her. “The beauty of these things,” she patted her bag which was now sitting on her lap, “is they’re totally magical which means nothing will show up on any tests, the doctors will be completely baffled!”

“You sure there’ll be no side-effects?” Dawn asked worriedly.

“Of course there’ll be side-effects,” Kennedy grinned, but then remembered who she was talking to and controlled her face, “but they’ll be gone after a week…two at most…well maybe three.”

“Okay,” Faith jumped in before Dawn and Kennedy could come to blows, “that’s great Kennie you better give the pills to Dawn.”

Reluctantly Kennedy handed over the bottle of pills to Dawn.

“So far so cool,” Faith turned to Dawn with a serious look on her face, “You okay with giving big sis one of those things?”

“Not a problem,” Dawn confirmed; to her it seemed that the only way they were going to get Buffy out of jail was to break her out.

“Right-on,” Faith said quietly, she looked around at the women at the table, “okay this is how it goes,” Faith took a deep breath, “Once we decide to go with this plan, Dawn gives the pills to Buffy and she takes one. Then we’ve got about six hours before we need to get moving. We’ll need someone to watch the prison to warn us when they send Buffy to Carlisle hospital, Magz can you deal?”

“No sweat,” Maggie nodded her head, “I’ll put a couple of trainees on it, don’t worry I won’t let them in on the secret.”

“Cool,” Faith agreed, “once Buffy’s in the hospital we grab her and walk out, put her into the car and then we’re outta there!”

Faith made it sound so simple, but it wasn’t. Kennedy and herself had spent several hours studying the plans for the hospital. They’d even done a couple of dry runs and they’d both spent a few nights pretending to be cleaners so they’d be familiar with the layout of the hospital. They’d even noted how the doctors dressed so there’d be less chance of them standing out and being noticed.

“Magz,” Faith looked at the woman, “ya got the get-away planned?”

“Yeah,” Maggie quickly ran over her ‘extraction plan’, “primary extraction method will be by car. We’ll use a cut-off car that we’ll dump before we use our own car to bring Miss Summers back to Central. I have secondary extraction methods planned using public transport if things go really wrong with our primary plan.”

“Public transport!?” Dawn squeaked, “You’re planning to make our get-away on a bus?”

“Not as such,” Maggie pointed out, “but the novelty of it would certainly throw any pursuit off our trail.”

“I’m cool with that,” Kennedy said not giving Dawn a chance to voice any further objections, “Faith?”

“No problemo,” Faith shrugged, “Magz’s the expert I’ll bow to her expertise.”

“Okay then,” Dawn sighed with relief, “we all agree on this, right?”

There were answering nods from around the table.

“We’re gonna do this,” Dawn took a deep breath, “we’re gonna break the law and get Buffy out of jail…”

“Yeah,” Faith said quietly, “Dawnie’s got a point, we’re gonna be breaking the law here. If any of ya got a problem with that speak up now, okay?” Faith turned to Kennedy, “Kennie?”

To be honest, Kennedy didn’t really care whether Buffy was in jail or out. The jail break looked as if it would be fun and exciting so she had no problem about that. What she did care about was the effect it’d have on Willow. Kennedy loved Willow and it hurt her to see her moping ‘round the house feeling sad because her best friend was in jail (again Kennedy smiled at the thought of Buffy being in jail, she just couldn’t help herself). Okay Willow would be pissed at her for going behind her back, but in the end she’d get over it.

“I’m in,” Kennedy replied simply.

“Magz?” Faith shifted her gaze to the ex-soldier.

“There is one thing we’ve not discussed,” Maggie said slowly, “what if Miss Summers doesn’t want to be broken out of jail?”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Cumbria, almost at the same time.**

Sitting on her bunk dressed in her pyjamas, Norma studied the notes she’d made on her clipboard while Buffy had a quick wash prior to going to bed.

“Well,” Norma sighed, “we’ve got plenty of strength at the back, we’re not short of stoppers,” Norma shook her head slightly, “What we need now is some creative mid-field flare.”

“From what I saw,” Buffy called over her shoulder, “how about Rudge? She was like majorly fast on her feet.”

“Didn’t help her much,” Norma commented, “apparently she had a trial for Brentford Ladies before she had a trial for shoplifting.”

“Have you…erm…chosen the team yet?” Buffy asked nonchalantly as she walked across the cell dressed only in her underwear.

“Not yet, no,” Norma replied studying her clipboard and ignoring Buffy’s half naked body.

Giving her friend an annoyed look, Buffy went over to her cupboard and pulled out a packet and offered the open bag of sweets to Norma.

“Liquorish Allsort?” Buffy asked.

“Oh,” Norma nodded as she absently took a pink, white and black square and put in her mouth, “don’t mind if I do, thanks.”

“Come on Norma,” Buffy tried to keep the pleading from her voice, “you must have some idea, a nucleus, y’know?”

“Yeah, well,” Norma chewed thoughtfully on her Allsort, “its taking shape.”

Realising she wasn’t getting through to Norma, Buffy tried something else.

“Got any socks that need darning?” Buffy offered.

“Have I!” Norma laughed as she waved her foot in front of Buffy’s nose, there was a large hole in the sock where Norma’s big toe poked through. “Here you go,” Norma pulled off the sock and passed it to Buffy.

“I thought I played quite well today,” Buffy said as she studied the hole in Norma’s sock.

“Did you?” Norma went back to studying her clipboard.

“Totally!” Buffy let her frustration out for a moment, “I scored didn’t I?”

“That was more of Walker’s shot though wasn’t it,” Norma replied calmly, “your head just sorta got in the way and the ball bounced off it into the goal.”

The truth was, Norma had never seen anyone jump quite that high before. If Buffy hadn’t been there the ball would have sailed over everyone’s heads and gone out of play. In fact Buffy seemed to be able to do everything better than everyone else; she ran faster, she kicked straighter and further, she tackled better and her ball control had to be seen to be believed; she also learnt faster than anyone else. From knowing virtually nothing about the game or how to play it, Norma now had the distinct feeling Buffy would be better than any player in the Première League. Even if she was a woman, she’d run rings around those overpaid pansies that called themselves footballers these days. But she wasn’t going to tell Buffy that, not yet, not ‘til she’d had her little bit of fun.

“No,” Buffy said disappointedly, “that was a totally cunning deflection, didn’t you see?”

“Oh, was it?” Norma replied disinterestedly; just then the lights went off, “Oh gawd,” Norma sighed as she put down her clipboard.

“So…er,” Buffy sat down on her bunk, took off her bra and slipped on her pyjama jacket, “how do you rate my chances, Norma?”

“Chances?” Norma bounced about on her mattress trying to get comfortable, “Of what?”

“Making the team?” Buffy felt like screaming.

“Slim,” Norma sighed as she got under her blankets.

“Darn your own naffin’ socks,” Buffy replied grumpily as she threw the sock back up onto Norma’s bunk.

0=0=0=0

**That pub again, Middlesbrough.**

“What do you mean she might not want to be broken out of jail?” Dawn whispered incredulously.

“Have you asked her?” Maggie replied, “I mean maybe she doesn’t want to spend the rest of her life on the run. Perhaps she’s accepted that she’s stuck where she is and would prefer to serve her time and come out a free woman.”

Dawn was lost for words, but Faith wasn’t.

“I hate to say this,” she reached over and took one of Dawn’s hands in her own, “but Magz has a point, has anyone actually asked B if this is what she wants?”

“Of course its what she wants,” Dawn snapped angrily, “every time I visit her she asks when we’re getting her out.”

“Yeah but that’s not the same as wanting to be broken out,” Kennedy observed.

“Oh,” Dawn glared angrily at Kennedy, “that’s just what I’ve come to expect from you!”

“Hey,” Kennedy held up her hands defensively, “I’m just saying, I’ll do whatever you ask and if that’s busting Buffy out I’m fine with it, but like Maggie says, what if she doesn’t want to go?”

“She doesn’t take the pill,” Dawn announced sadly, realising that the people around her had a point, “I’d never thought about it before I just assumed.”

“Look,” Faith held on to Dawn’s hand tightly, “next time you go visit, I’m coming too, okay?”

“Okay,” Dawn nodded her head slowly, “you want to ask her and you don’t trust me to tell you what she said.”

“It’s not that, kid,” Faith frowned sometimes she hated these relationship deals, she really just wanted to run away and hide like she used to when thing got a little messy; but she was getting too old to run away, it was time to face up to things and be a grown-up. “I just don’t think you can get over the fact that you love big sis and want her home again.”

“But you won’t have her home,” Maggie pointed out, “not if we break her out, she’ll just have to go away again.”

“You all think like that?” Dawn asked as her eyes started to shine with unshed tears.

“Yeah,” Maggie nodded.

“Whatever,” Kennedy sighed.

“Not helping Kennie,” Faith said warningly.

“Okay,” Kennedy looked around at all the faces turned towards her, “I’ll do what the group wants, either way, no reservations on my part. Remember, I’m doing this to stop Willow being sad,” Kennedy thought it might be time to hold out an olive branch, “Look,” she pursed her lips, “my Father knows some people who know some people who might be able to help…you know? False identities and the like. I’ll look into it if Buffy wants out.”

“Thank-you the representative from the Mafia,” Faith said quietly; Kennedy stuck out her tongue and pulled a face at the older slayer, “Okay that’s settled,” Faith announced, “next visiting day, I go with Dawnie and put the plan to B, we only have a ‘go’ if she says its okay.”

Slowly the meeting broke up and Maggie found herself out in the car park by herself. Walking towards her bus stop she thought about everything that had been said, the meeting had been a close call; she’d told her case officer everything. How she had a contact inside Slade prison and how certain elements of the Slayer Organisation were planning on breaking Buffy Summers out of prison, while other factions were still trying to get her free by more legal means.

In return, her case officer had told her that any attempt on the part of the slayers to release Buffy Summers by breaking her out of jail would be bad, very bad indeed, particularly for the slayer organisation. There were wheels turning within wheels while a bad case of interdepartmental rivalry went on behind the scenes.

What it boiled down to was this; the security services were pro-slayer. They were quite happy to let the slayers get on with there own thing while they got on with there’s. To be honest the security services were glad to have the slayers dealing with the supernatural threat because it let them get on with dealing with international and home grown terrorism. Basically, with the slayers in the game it was one less thing for the security services to worry about, after all, budgets were tight. All the security services wanted was a few people to be in place (of which Maggie was just one) so they could keep an eye on what the slayers were doing. It also meant that they could channel information to the slayers if the security services stumbled on anything otherworldly. Plus they might be able to steer the slayers away from anything that might be none of their concern.

On the other hand, the Home Office were pro-control of the slayers. Since the demise of the old Watchers Council the Home Office had become increasingly worried about the activities of the slayers. Like any government organisation run by control-freaks, bean-counters and blithering idiots, they wanted the slayers under their thumb, failing that they wanted them gone. What had started as an operation to see how far the Slayer Organisation could be pushed (originally the idea had been to release Buffy Summers before things had gone too far) had rapidly turned into an operation to either take control of the slayers, or destroy their organisation and if necessary destroy them…as in kill them all.

Her case officer had told Maggie that under no circumstances where the slayers to attempt to break Buffy Summers out of jail. Moves were afoot to get her out with a full and unreserved pardon. But, to achieve this the security services needed more time and slayers plotting commando raids on one of Her Majesty’s Prisons was not helping; Maggie needed to put a few spokes in their wheels. At this point her case officer had looked at her soberingly. He’d told her that if things did go ‘tits up’, he wouldn’t be able to give her any help; she was free to follow the dictates of her own conscience. She’d have to make her own choice whether she’d get out and ‘come in from the cold’ or stand with her sister slayers. Maggie knew exactly where her loyalties lay and what she’d do if the crap hit the fan.

0=0=0=0

**Buffy and Norma’s Cell, Slade Prison.**

Tossing and turning in her little bunk and after what felt like hours of delicious torture, Buffy gasped softly as she felt Janet's fingers slip between her legs. Up until then she’d been squeezing Janet's thigh between her own. But now she’d spread her legs waiting eagerly for her lover's caress. The sensuous, arousing touch that Janet used drove her crazy. Buffy knew it was pointless to try and still her hips as Janet's fingers began to stroke around her clitoris; brushing over it with alternating lightness and firmness as Janet’s fingers worked their magic.

“Will you keep the noise down, down there?” Norma’s voice and the smell of the sock that had landed over her nose woke Buffy from her erotic dream, “Some of us need their beauty sleep you know?”

“Sorry,” mumbled Buffy still half asleep.

“So you should be,” Norma bounced about on her bed and slowly went back to sleep.

Beneath her, Buffy rolled onto her side, she’d never known dreams like these before; they were so intense so real; they were more realistic than even her slayer dreams. Still sexually excited, Buffy closed her eyes and slipped her hand inside her panties and started to stroke herself as her free hand caressed her own breasts. Gritting her teeth and clamping her lips closed against the moans of pleasure that tried to escape her throat, Buffy brought herself to a climax before slowly drifting off to sleep again.

0=0=0=0


	16. Chapter 16

16.

**Slade Prison Sports Field.**

It was Saturday afternoon and there was only one week to go before the match between Slade United and the team from Newcastle who’d agreed to play the prisoners. At that very moment the members of Slade United were playing a practice match to allow Norma to make her final selection for the team that would face the Newcastle Ladies team. Watching closely, Norma saw McLaren pass the ball to Oaks, Oaksey ran towards the ball and tried to kick it further down the field. Miss-kicking the ball by a mile, Oaks slipped and fell onto her back much to the amusement of the rest of the team.

“Come on, Oaksey!” Norma called, “You’re in ‘ere for armed robbery, why don’t you try an’ steal the ball once inna while?”

“You’re in the spirit of things, Fletcher.”

Norma turned to see that Governor Venables and Miss Mackay had come up behind her while she was watching the game.

“Oh good afternoon, Ma’am,” Norma answered the Governor pleasantly, pleased for once to have an excuse to ignore Mackay, she said nothing to the screw.

“How do you rate our chances,” the governor asked with a smile; the prospect of the football match had improved moral in the prison no end and there’d been a marked drop in violence aimed at the Prison Officers.

“Hard to tell, Ma’am,” Norma shrugged her shoulders, “we don’t know what we’re up against yet, do we?”

“Have you any news on that front, Miss Mackay?” the Governor asked turning to her senior officer.

“Aye,” Mackay nodded her head wisely, “I’ve heard they’re pretty tasty, if you don’t mind me using the vernacular, Ma’am; they’ll give our girls a run for their money.”

“Well,” Governor Venables turned to Norma and smiled, “I better leave you to it, Fletcher and good luck.”

“Thank-you Ma’am,” Norma called as the governor and Mackay made their way towards the changing rooms.

The changing rooms for the visitors were getting a new coat of paint, while the ones for the home team were being left untouched.

0=0=0=0

**New York, New York (so good they named it twice).**

Walking along the dark, rain slick streets near her apartment, Rona didn’t really notice the crowd of rowdy rich looking kids on the other side of the street. It was very late, or incredibly early (it depended how you looked at things) but one thing was for sure, she was tired and was looking forward to getting back to her little apartment, having a shower and collapsing into her warm, safe bed. Walking on she continued to ignore the selfish noisy teenagers behind her. They’d probably been to some swanky all night party and not risking their necks like she had hunting down vamps in the back streets.

If it hadn’t been for the accent, Rona would have never turned around and seen the man. But she had and she did; British accents weren’t exactly rare in New York but they were still uncommon enough for her to take a look, after all the accent sounded so much like Mr Giles’ as to be uncanny. Enhanced slayer eyes cut through the rain misted air, the glare from a distant street-light only helped her identify her target. Slowly her hand reached for her shoulder bag and searched inside. Standing in the shelter of a shop door way she pulled the photograph from her bag and studied it closely as she’d done many times before.

Flicking her eyes between the photograph and the man on the street having fun with all those noisy teenage girls, Rona said goodbye to her longed for shower and comfy little bed. The man in the photograph was the same as the man in the street; Ethan Rayne. Swelling a little with pride, Rona realised she’d found the one man in the world that the entire Slayer Organisation was looking for. The smile fell from her lips as a frown replaced it.

“Damn!” she muttered under her breath.

The instructions for anyone spotting Ethan Rayne were to observe, find out where he lived, contact Slayer Central and **on no account approach him without magical back up**. Fumbling in her bag Rona pulled out her cellphone and speed dialled her watcher…the guy wasn’t even _her_ watcher. He looked after three or four other girls in this part of the country and at the moment he was up in Baltimore.

“Oh well,” Rona sighed as she waited for her call to be answered, “he’s all I got.”

While she tailed Rayne, he could call Slayer Central and arrange back up, until then she was on her own. Stepping further into the shadow cast by the shop entrance, Rona watched Rayne and his friends pass by on the other side of the street. For the time being it was all down to her. Stepping out into the damp night air once more, she slowly followed Rayne as he and his friends made their erratic way towards who knew where.”

0=0=0=0

**Buffy and Norma’s cell, Slade Prison.**

Sitting up to the table in her cell, Buffy carefully cut the material of the dress with scissors that were really too blunt for the job, but she managed. With a final snip she cut through the last piece of cloth and smiled as she held up the truncated dress and admired her handy work, now all she had to do was sew up the new hem and her ‘party dress’ would be completed.

About a week ago, Buffy had found an old cooks dress stuffed away in a drawer in the kitchen and long forgotten about. Sneaking it back to her cell (the idea that she should ask permission had never entered her mind) she washed and bleached it until it was sparkling white. Next she’d set about altering it; Mackay had suggested that should ‘Slade United’ win their match against Newcastle Ladies there was a good possibility that the governor would allow the team to have a small victory party. This slim possibility of a party had been all Buffy needed to draw up plans for her party dress.

Okay, it wasn’t going to win any prizes at London Fashion Week, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. Having taken the sleeves off Buffy had lowered the neckline dramatically, taken in the waist and she was now in the process of shortening the skirt. At the back of her mind was the possibility that she might actually get to consummate her relationship with Janet McLaren. If this wasn’t a big enough encouragement for her to ensure that Slade United won their match, then she didn’t know what was.

Humming contentedly as she sewed, Buffy realised something; for the first time in a very long time she was, for all intents and purposes, happy. The thought struck her as odd, considering where she was; okay life wasn’t perfect but… Buffy started to count the ‘plus’ things in her life. First no one was expecting anything of her, in fact everyone assumed that she’d screw up, so every time she didn’t that was a point to her. There was always someone there to tell her what to do next, each day was mapped out for her and little different to the one that had just passed. The fact that no one was relying on her to lead them was a massive load off her mind, she’d not get anyone killed while in prison because she’d made the wrong decision. No one messed with her, there were no monsters…well, not many and the ones that were here were being as careful as she was to keep out of trouble…and she’d learnt things too. Before she’d gone to prison she’d never darned a sock, or sewn up a dress and now she knew how to make breakfast or curry for five hundred, that had to be worth something.

When she thought about it three or four years wasn’t really that long. Life in prison was a state of mind, Buffy had schooled herself not to think about the future or what was going on outside; she never watched the TV news in the evening, she never read Norma’s paper or listened to the news on the radio. If she believed that prison life was all there was and the outside didn’t exist, that she was here forever…well, it made the time pass as if this was all she’d ever known. The one fly in this ointment was when Dawn came to visit; she had her friends inside but the one thing she really missed was Dawn and her ‘outside’ friends, she even missed Kennedy…just a little.

“Bloody hell!” Norma burst into the cell and threw her newspaper onto the table in front of Buffy, “have you read that?” she demanded, “It’s a naffin’ liberty, that’s wot I call it a bleedin’, naffin’ liberty. I’d write to my MP if I knew who he was!”

“What’s wrong?” Buffy put down her sewing and turned the paper so she could read the headline.

“That’s what’s bleedin’ wrong,” Norma pointed a trembling finger at the newspaper.

After glancing up at her friend, Buffy read the headline emblazoned across the top of an inside page of Norma’s paper; ‘Padded Bras For Prisoners’.

“Well, that doesn’t seem so bad,” Buffy looked up at Norma again.

The prison issue bras where cheap and poorly made, they were like something Buffy had worn when she was twelve. The elastic had already started to ‘go’ on hers and she’d only had them for a few months, sometimes it seemed pointless to wear them, she often wondered how the women with larger boobs managed; Buffy thanked her lucky stars she was slim and everything was still firm and perky.

“Read the rest of it,” Norma sat down, “go on…bleedin’ disgusting I calls it.”

Reading on, Buffy realised what had got Norma so upset. It appeared that, The European Court of Human Rights (the font of all that was weird and wacky in the EU and a major recruiter for anti-EU political parties across the continent) had decided, in their collective wisdom, that transgender prisoners were to be allowed padded bras. It took a moment for Buffy to realise that the paper meant **male** prisoners.

“Hey that’s not fair!” Buffy pushed the paper back across the table to Norma, “they should sort out the people that really need them before they give them to guys,” Buffy thought quickly for a moment, “Hey,” a light came on above her head, “maybe we can get these European Court people for sexism?”

“Not a chance,” Norma sighed, “my one consolation is that this ruling hasn’t gone down well in the papers,” Norma appeared to be returning to her old relaxed self again now she’d shared her outrage with someone, “Unfortunately it’s not because the papers think that this is a stupid ruling…”

“No?” Buffy picked up her party dress and went back to her stitching.

“No,” Norma gave another heart felt sigh, “it’s because the newspapers think we should be dressed in sackcloth and fed on bread and water while we break rocks for years on end.”

“Don’t forget the ball and chain,” Buffy quipped as her quick and nimble fingers stitched away without much input from her brain, “perhaps I can get Dawn to bring in some proper underwear.”

“You’ll have to get Mackay’s okay on that if you do,” Norma replied, “and you know what she’ll say.”

“Well,” Buffy looked up at her friend a plan formed in her mind, “what if we go to the Governor and ask her if we can make our own…”

“Mackay again,” Norma pointed out, “she’d never let it happen.”

“What if we waited until it was her day off?” Buffy pointed out, “Or when she’s on leave…I mean we could get Barrowclough to put it to the governor.”

“Anyway,” Norma reached over and picked up her clipboard, “before we open our very own branch of ‘Anne Summers’…”

“That’s my name you know?” Buffy explained; she’d always found seeing the chain of ‘naughty knickers’ shops with her name on them amusing.

“What?” Norma frowned at her.

“Buffy Anne Summers,” Buffy announced proudly as she tied off her last stitch, “that’s me.” 

“Well I never,” Norma said in wonder, “anyway before we become part of your sexy underwear empire we’ve still got a football match to win.”

“So,” Buffy folded away her dress, “who’ve you chosen?”

“Well, you for one,” Norma grinned at her cell-mate, “I’m putting you mid-field and I want you to score gaols, okay?”

Buffy nodded her head affirmatively, “Who else?” Norma rattled off a list of names including Janet’s and Bunny’s.

“I’ve put ‘Light Fingered’ Lil Walker as captain,” Norma explained.

“I’m no expert,” Buffy pointed out, “but that sound like a well balanced team.”

“Yeah,” Norma agreed, “I’ve gone for a balance of youth, experience and brutality.”

“Hey,” Buffy frowned as she counted up the names in her head and came up with one short, “you’ve missed someone out, haven’t you?”

“Ah, yes, well,” Norma hesitated, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that until the actual day itself.”

“Who?” Buffy asked already suspecting she knew the answer.

“Oaksey,” Norma said the name softly hoping that Buffy wouldn’t hear.

“Oaksey,” Buffy sighed resignedly, “she can’t tackle, pass, trap or dribble!”

“Yes, I admit that,” Norma tried to placate Buffy, “but she has got one thing going for her.”

“What’s that?” Buffy asked not believing her ears.

“Groutie wants her on the team,” Norma pointed out the sad truth, “its part of the deal we made, as you well know.”

Having this inconvenient truth pointed out to her didn’t improve Buffy’s humour.

“What’s Groutie up to?” Buffy demanded, “What’s she planning?”

“Well if we knew that,” Norma pointed out, “we’d both be a lot wiser women than we are…and we could bubble Oaksey to the screws!”

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

Once again Willow burst into Giles’ office without knocking causing him to drop the antique flintlock duelling pistol he was examining onto his desk. Luckily the weapon landed on the Giles’ blotter and didn’t scratch the surface of his expensive mahogany desk.

“Giles!” Willow gasped excitedly just bursting to tell Giles her news.

“Willow,” Giles picked up the duelling pistol and examined it for damage, “I do wish you’d knock…”

“No time,” Willow replied breathlessly, “I’ve got to catch a flight down to Heathrow and then on to New York.”

“May one ask why?” Giles replaced the pistol in its box where its twin still lay.

“Rayne,” Willow blurted out.

“Rain?” Giles replied slightly puzzled, “I know the weather’s a bit severe up here but that’s no reason to leave the country.”

“No Ethan Rayne,” Willow explained.

“Ethan?” Giles suddenly became more interested in what Willow had to say, “What about him.”

“Rona spotted him in New York the night before last,” Willow announced, “she followed him and found out where he lives. Kennedy and I are going over there to grab him.”

“To what end?” Giles asked slowly.

“To bring him back here and make him reverse all those spells,” Willow slowed down as she spoke, something was puzzling her, “I gotta say Giles you’re not exactly full of the ‘go-team’ spirit.”

“Oh,” Giles smiled, “I think its excellent news and Rona should be commended,” Giles took a deep breath, “but how are you going to get him back here?”

“I thought I’d block his magic while Kennedy and Rona grab him,” Willow frowned at her old friend, “what’s your problem with that?”

“Well,” Giles took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and fore finger, “last time I checked kidnapping was illegal on both sides of the Atlantic and I don’t feel happy about the prospect of both you and Buffy languishing in jail.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Willow smiled, she knew something that Giles didn’t, “Tony, y’know Kennedy’s father, has a Jetstream we’ll fly back on that straight to Tyne-Tees International.”

“Of course,” Giles nodded, “I should have known, how convenient that your girlfriend’s rich father has a private jet.”

“Yes and he has people who can forge documents and help with the kidnapping itself!” Willow stopped talking one sentence too late, “Ooops!”

“What do you…” Giles began but was interrupted by Willow.

“Oh come on Giles,” Willow pleaded, “you must have realised by now…Kennedy Scarpone? How much more Mafia can her name sound?”

“I’d always tried to ignore it before,” Giles admitted, “of course I’d suspected but to have it rubbed in my face like that.”

“I can make you forget if you like,” Willow offered as she raised her hand ready to cast the spell.

“No, no,” Giles held up his hands defensively, “I expect I can live with the truth now I’ve had my worst fears confirmed.”

“So, you don’t mind us going?” Willow asked softly, “We’ll try to be good and not do anything too illegal.”

“Oh I suppose so,” Giles sighed, “I don’t suppose I have much choice do I?”

“Not really, Giles,” Willow agreed, “look, remember this is for Buffy, we’ve got to get her out.”

“I know,” Giles admitted defeated, “just be careful. Like I say I don’t want to have to try and get you out of jail too.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” Willow turned and walked slowly back to the door, “if we get caught in the States, Tony can bribe a judge and get us off!”

0=0=0=0

**Janet McLaren’s cell, Slade Prison.**

At the very moment that Giles and Willow were discussing kidnapping Ethan Rayne, Buffy and Janet were standing behind the open door of her cell. To anyone (like a screw) passing by on landing the cell would look empty. They could even walk into the cell and not notice the two young women kissing behind the door unless they actually moved the door and looked.

“Janet?” Buffy reluctantly pulled herself away from the Scots girl’s lips, “look I don’t want to pressure you or anything,” she rested her hands lightly on Janet’s hips as she spoke, “but I’m really gay but you’re only doing this because you’re ‘lonely’. Are you sure you’re alright with it?”

“Aye,” Janet replied with a smile, “I’m fine wee everything, maybe I’m bi or somethin’. No’ stop y’blatherin’ an’ kiss me.”

Not needing to be asked twice Buffy kissed Janet passionately as she pushed her against the wall of the cell. As her excitement rose in her chest, Buffy’s hands eagerly sort out the buttons of Janet’s dress. Deftly unbuttoning her lover’s dress she slipped her hand inside to fondle Janet’s firm breasts. The feel of Janet’s warm smooth skin against her hand almost made Buffy lose control of herself; luckily the shout of a screw warning everyone that it was fifteen minutes to lock up brought her down to earth.

“Damn!” Buffy gasped as she let go of Janet and stepped away from her.

“Better luck next time, eh?” Janet smiled still breathing heavily herself.

“Yeah,” Buffy straightened her dress and pushed her hair back into place, “we need to plan this better.”

“Aye,” Janet agreed, “no’ get on back tae y’cell before the screws catch you.”

“Okay,” Buffy stole one last kiss before heading back to her cell one floor below.

0=0=0=0


	17. Chapter 17

18.

**Slade Prison.**

The offside rule.

It was Friday evening after tea and Slade United were meeting in the home team changing room in the prison’s sports pavilion. Tomorrow was the day of the big match with Newcastle Ladies and Norma was going over a few last minute problems with her team. Standing in front of the players, she looked into the blank faces of the women and sighed, even Buffy was looking mystified and she’d been to university!

Glancing over at the screw who was standing by the door, Norma silently pleaded for help, she only received a shrug and a shake of the head in reply. No help there, she thought, looking skywards hoping for divine intervention, Norma took a breath, looked at the rule book again and started from the beginning once more.

“Come on you nerks,” Norma pleaded, “this is important and you’ve got to get it right, okay?”

There were murmurs of assent and nods of the head from the assembled players.

“Right then,” Norma sighed yet again, “once more with feeling…” Norma took a deep breath and started to read from the rule book; “A player is in an offside position if he, or in this case, she,” Norma added, “is nearer to his, or her, opponent's goal line than the ball unless: He or she,” Norma decided to alter the text slightly, perhaps it was all the he/she-ing that was confusing everyone, “is in her own half of the field and she is not nearer to the opponent's goal line than at least two of her opponents.”

Looking up from the book, Norma smiled hopefully but was met with a multitude of puzzled frowns. Not being one to be put off so easily, after all this was only her third attempt at explaining the offside rule, she continued reading.

“A player,” she announced, “will only be declared offside if, at the moment the ball touches or is played by one of her own team, in the opinion of the referee that player is: Interfering with play or with an opponent, or, seeking to gain an advantage by being in that position.”

Once again Norma looked at the team, it was fairly obvious by the looks on their puzzled and confused faces that she wasn’t getting through.

“Look this isn’t working,” Norma let the rule book drop to her side and shrugged her shoulders, “honestly I don’t understand why you nerks don’t get it, I mean what could be more simple?”

“Perhaps if you put it in a way that’s more natural to ‘em,” suggested the screw from over by the door.

Giving the screw a sour look, Norma was just about to dismiss the idea when a thought struck her, perhaps the screw had a point.

“Thank-you Miss Brown,” Norma nodded to the screw, “now let me think…what would you bunch of naffin’ useless nerks all know about?” Norma frowned in concentration as she tried to think up a new way of putting over what was one of the most important rules in Association Football. Slowly a smile spread across her face as the answer to all her problems came to her like a gift from god.

“All right you nerks, pin your lug-‘oles back…” Norma began only to be interrupted by Buffy.

“Lug-‘oles?” Buffy asked to the amusement of her team-mates.

“Ears!” Norma pulled at the lobe of her own ear to get the message across, “pin back your ears, that means listen really hard!”

“Okay,” Buffy replied defensively, “there’s totally no need to go on about it.”

“Right where was I?” Norma had lost her tread.

“Pinning back your ‘lug-‘oles’,” Buffy called out helpfully.

“Thank-you Miss Droopy-draws,” Norma replied tiredly, “I’ll deal with you later.”

There was a chorus of, ‘OOO-ER’s’ from the team and several comments along the lines of, ‘who’s a lucky girl then?’ before Norma restored order and was able to carry on.

“Okay,” Norma began once everyone had settled down, “you're in a shoe shop, second in line for the till. Behind the shop assistant, on a shelf is a pair of shoes which you’ve just noticed and you really must have.”

Smiling to herself, Norma saw she now had everyone’s undivided attention.

“The girl in front of you,” Norma continued with her analogy, “has seen them too and is eyeing them with desire. Both of you have forgotten your purses.”

“That’s silly,” Bunny Warren called out, “why’d you be in a shoe shop without your purse? Unless you was shoplifting.”

“SHHHH!” hissed the rest of the team like a chorus of snakes.

“It would be rude to push in front of the first woman, if you have no money to pay for the shoes…” Norma tried to ignore the stoppage.

Looking around the room, Norma saw the enthralled faces of her team and knew she was on the right track.

“Your friend is trying on another pair of shoes at the back of the shop and sees your dilemma,” Norma explained, “she prepares to throw her purse to you.”

“Oh that’s nice of her,” commented Bunny only to be silenced by another outburst of hissing from the snake chorus.

“If she does so,” Norma went on doggedly, “you can catch the purse and then walk round the other shopper and buy the shoes!”

A cheer rose from the throats of the team.

“At a pinch,” Norma went on, “she could throw the purse ahead of the other shopper and ‘whilst it is in flight’ you could nip around the other shopper, catch the purse and buy the shoes!”

Once again there was a cheer from the players.

“BUT,” Norma held up her finger to emphasise her point, “you must always remember that until the purse has ‘actually been thrown’, it would be plain wrong for you to be in front of the other shopper because you would be…?

“OFFSIDE!” cheered the team.

“Alright then,” the screw called as she stepped forward, “time to get back to the wing, come on you lot!”

The prisoners started to mutter and shuffle about as they collected up their things.

“Alright, alright,” the screw stood by the door her hands on her hips, “no need to act like a bunch of grumpy, old women, now form up outside on the double.”

“Ah, Miss Brown,” Norma called as she wandered over to the screw, “do you mind if Summers and McLaren stay behind and clean the place up a bit?”

Looking from Norma to Buffy and Janet the screw pursed her lips as she cast her gaze over the changing room floor. The place did look as if it needed a good sweep-up and Summers and McLaren were fairly trustworthy.

“Alright,” she said before turning and pointing a warning finger at the two young women, “any trouble from you two and you’ll find yourselves in front Miss Mackay so fast your feet won’t touch the ground, understand?”

Buffy and Janet nodded innocently and tried not to giggle like schoolgirls.

“Right,” Miss Brown started to sort through her keys, “I’ll be locking you in so you won’t wander off by mistake, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Once Buffy and Janet were the only inmates left in the changing room, Miss Brown went through the door, gave the two young women one last warning look and then pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. Standing in silence the two young women listened to the sound of the rest of the team being marched back to the prison proper.

“Quick!” Buffy cried as she started to pull off her football shirt, “we’ve only got half an hour probably less!”

“Right,” Janet was already out of her shirt and was kicking off her trainers as she pulled down her shorts.

Not to be left behind, Buffy slipped out of her shorts and panties before starting to arrange their shirts on the floor so they wouldn’t have to lie directly on the cold concrete floor. Naked except for their socks, Buffy and Janet stood and looked at each other drinking in the sight of each other’s naked bodies. After only a second or two they rushed into each other’s arms and started to kiss passionately as they lowered themselves onto the shirts that lay on the floor.

Her hands roaming all over Janet’s body, Buffy nearly went into sensory overload and almost lost control of herself as Janet rolled her onto her back and spread her legs with her knee. The Scots girl started to tease Buffy's cleft before unexpectedly dipping her fingers inside her. Gasping with desire Buffy tried to trap her lover’s elusive fingers inside her by clapping her legs together and drawing her deeper inside her heated body. But Janet’s hand would just dance away to play across Buffy’s breasts and stomach. 

Just when she thought she would faint from need, Janet slipped her fingers deep inside Buffy’s vagina. The repeated penetration of those talented fingers to her sweet spot shorted out any other thought in Buffy's mind. Janet was all she knew at this moment and was all that mattered. Buffy caught the orgasmic wave that rose within her and rode it out, clinging to Janet with a grip that left finger marks on the other girl’s back. Janet kissed her hard as Buffy climaxed, a long low moan escaping from her throat. Janet’s kisses changed to softness as Buffy's body began to relax. 

“God that was good,” Buffy gasped as she rolled Janet on to her back, “now its your turn…”

0=0=0=0

**New York, New York (all the scandal and the vice…I love it!).**

“Your turn!” Kennedy called to Willow as she stepped out of the little shower in Rona’s apartment.

“Thanks,” Willow yawned hugely as she picked up her towel and headed into the bathroom; jet lag was killing her.

While Willow was in the shower, hopefully washing away the effects of the trans-Atlantic flight, Kennedy stood in the middle of Rona’s living room as she dried herself off.

“How’s life treating you?” Kennedy asked Rona who was in her kitchen fixing coffee and sandwiches.

“Not so bad,” Rona replied as she came into the room clutching a pot of coffee in one hand and the plate of sandwiches in the other, “Oh sorry!” Rona started to back out of the room when she saw Kennedy standing almost naked as she slipped into fresh underwear.

“Don’t be silly,” Kennedy smiled, “I’ve lost count of the number of girls who’ve see me naked.”

“Oh you mean…” Rona didn’t know what to say or where to look, she wasn’t used to having attractive, naked young women in her apartment and Kennedy was very attractive.

“No I don’t mean what you mean,” Kennedy clipped her bra catch shut, “I’m not a slut you know?”

“I didn’t mean that I…” Rona decided to shut up before she put her foot ‘in it’ any more than it was already.

“I’m guessing you didn’t do Willow’s reversal spell?” Kennedy pulled a black t-shirt on over her head.

“No,” Rona shook her head, “look, I wasn’t having much luck meeting guys,” she sighed longingly, “y’know the hours us slayers keep, it doesn’t make for much party time.”

“So you thought you’d try girls?” Kennedy asked as she pulled on figure hugging black jeans.

“Uh-huh,” Rona nodded her head slowly.

“Not working out either?” Kennedy asked sympathetically.

“No,” Rona sulked.

“Hey,” Kennedy smiled as she sat down to lace up her boots, “give it a chance, huh?” she smiled encouragingly at the other girl; there was something of a special bond between all the Sunnydale potentials and they tried to help each other out whenever they could. “Look I’ve got some addresses somewhere I could let you have.”

“Addresses?” Rona asked hopefully, New York was a lonely place when you didn’t know anyone and had little time to actually go out and make friends.

“Yeah, you know,” Kennedy stood up and started to brush her hair back and put it into a pony tail, “Gay clubs a few chat-rooms things like that.”

“Thanks…” Rona would have said more but Willow reappeared out of the shower.

“Hey,” Willow smiled at her partner, “don’t you look all commando-girl?”

0=0=0=0

A couple of hours later, Willow, Kennedy and Rona were standing in an underground parking lot admiring the long, low, black limousine Kennedy’s father had lent them. For her part Rona was regretting her choice of staying gay; she ran her eye over the two young men in dark glasses and suits so well tailored that you hardly noticed the slight bulges under their left arms. The two guys had been sent by Kennedy’s father as ‘back up’. They’d also drive the limo and arrange for anything the boss’s daughter and her friends wanted.

“You know I really love your dad,” Willow squeezed Kennedy’s hand in her own, “he’s so…so…” Willow struggled for the right word, “...thoughtful.”

“This is your dad’s car?” Rona looked at Kennedy in wonder.

“One of them,” Kennedy nodded.

“Wow!” Rona gasped before turning to Kennedy and whispering in her ear, “And the two guys?”

“Thinking of going straight again, huh?” Kennedy smiled.

“I mean,” Rona shrugged and gestured at the two guys, “wouldn’t you?”

“Erm, no,” Kennedy replied as she squeezed Willow’s hand, “but it’s different for me…okay, lets get this kidnapping on the road!”

It was as if Kennedy had given an order, one of the guys ran around to the driver’s side, opened the door and climbed in and started the engine. The other guy opened the door to the passenger compartment and held it while the three women climbed in. Settling herself into one of the soft leather seats, Rona looked around the interior in amazement.

“Wow!” she repeated almost breathless with wonder, “This car’s bigger than my apartment!”

“Yeah,” Willow frowned as she got herself comfortable in a corner seat, “won’t this stick out like a sore thumb? Won’t people say, wow, look at that sore thumb?”

“Not in New York,” Kennedy pressed a button on the arm of her seat, the glass partition separating the driver from the passenger compartment slid silently down so she could talk to the driver. “Its Jonathan, isn’t it?” 

“Yes Miss Kennedy,” the driver’s voice drifted into the passenger’s compartment making Rona’s flesh go all goose-bumpy (obviously the gay thing hadn’t taken completely; maybe it had just turned her bi?).

“Right, Jonathan,” Kennedy said politely, “you know where to go and what I need you to do?”

“Yes, Miss Kennedy,” intoned the driver.

“Okay then,” Kennedy smiled, “lets do it!” Closing the partition as they started to drive towards the exit, Kennedy settled back in her seat and grinned with anticipation. “Hey, look at this,” she pressed several more buttons, “mini-bar, TV, internet access everything we can possibly want. As soon as we snatch Rayne you can contact Dawn and tell her that her sister is almost free!”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Prison Officer’s Club**

The Prison Officer’s club at Slade prison was a dark depressing place situated in the basement under the admin block. At the moment it’s only occupants were Prison Officer Barrowclough, Prison Officer Brown and Jack Barlow who ran the bar; he was one of the few men who actually worked inside Slade.

Brown lifted her glass and sipped at the cheep white wine it contained, she looked around at all the empty seats and sighed heavily.

“Not many of the girls in tonight,” she observed to Barrowclough who was sitting next to her staring morosely into her half-pint of lager.

“Never are,” Barrowclough replied gloomily, she sighed with a special type of hopelessness that was all her own, “It’s a desperate place this…the only reason I come here is; it’s either this or going home.”

“I’m single, myself,” Brown announced more to fill the silent void that filled the room than for conversation’s sake, “I used to be married…divorced now.”

“Oh really,” Miss Barrowclough seemed to brighten a little, “I look at it this way,” she said, “it’s better to have loved and lost than spend your whole ruddy life married to the bastard!” Miss Barrowclough took a deep shuddering breath that spoke of her complete and utter despair, “I sometimes wish I was an inmate, rather than the one who gets to go home at the end of the day.”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Buffy and Norma’s cell.**

The lights had gone out about half-an-hour ago, but Buffy was still awake and she could tell from her breathing that Norma was as well.

“Norma,” Buffy called quietly.

“What?” Norma replied almost immediately.

“Thanks for earlier,” Buffy whispered, “that meant a lot to me…to both of us, y’know?”

“Yeah, well,” Norma sounded slightly embarrassed and tried to cover it up by being bluff and grumpy, “as long as you didn’t knacker each other out, that’s all.”

“Take more than half an hour to tire me out,” Buffy giggled.

“You’re naffin’ insatiable, Buffy Summers,” Norma’s head appeared over the edge of her bunk just above Buffy’s, “that’s what you are.”

“Jealous!” Buffy laughed back.

“Slut!” Norma shot back as she disappeared from Buffy’s view, “You and McLaren going at it hammer and tongs every chance you get.”

“Don’t know about hammers,” Buffy smirked, “but there were plenty of tongues!”

“Oh!” Norma threw a smelly sock in Buffy’s direction, “Get some sleep!”

“Okay,” Buffy threw the sock onto the floor and turned onto her side trying to get comfortable, “but I meant it…”

“Meant what?” Yawned Norma.

“Thanks,” Buffy closed her eyes, “for everything.”

0=0=0=0


	18. Chapter 18

19.

**Match of the Day.**

_Oh she’s football crazy, she’s football mad,  
And the football it has robbed her of the wee bit of sense she had.  
And it would take a dozen skivvies to face the wash and scrub,  
Since our Buffy became a member of that terrible football club._

**Slade Prison Sport’s Field.**

Standing next to Norma, Buffy watched as the coach containing the Newcastle Ladies team drove through the big gate at the far end of the field.

“Now we get to see what we’re up against,” Buffy breathed quietly.

“Yeah,” Norma agreed, “come on,” she turned to see that the rest of the team had come up behind her, “let’s see if we can get a closer look.”

Together, Slade United ambled over towards the changing rooms. As they walked, Buffy looked across the sports field. The grass had been recently cut; the white markings for the football pitch had only been repainted yesterday so they stood out crisp and clear against the lush green grass. There were already a fair number of inmates moving around; most were doing things like putting up the goal nets of placing benches around the touch line. Others were just walking around with their hands in the pockets of their dresses enjoying being out in the sunshine and hoping not to be noticed by a screw and given something to do.

Jumping down from the coach, Miss Mackay stood to one side as the Newcastle Ladies got off the bus and stood around in a huddle not sure where they should go. Standing in, what they hoped was a non-threatening crowd, Slade United stood a dozen yards away and watched, they weren’t impressed by what they saw.

“Well there’s the netball team,” Norma commented dryly, “where’s the naffin’ football team?”

The Newcastle Ladies were not what they’d expected, to the women of Slade Prison the Newcastle footballers looked like a bunch of silly, giggling office girls and young mothers. Only their coach looked more like what Buffy thought she should; a heavily built woman with very short hair and tattoos on her forearms.

“Hey,” Buffy said just loud enough for her team mates to hear, “lets be gentle with them…we wouldn’t want to make them break their nails or spoil their hair-do’s!”

Glancing over to where Miss Mackay stood talking quietly to Miss Barrowclough, Buffy could tell that the chief screw wasn’t that impressed either.

“Fletcher,” Mackay gestured for Norma to join her as she walked slowly towards the Newcastle team and invited their coach to join them. “This is Mrs Bainbridge the Newcastle coach and manager.”

“Pleased to meet you I’m sure,” Norma shook the other woman’s hand and suddenly felt very sorry for Mr Bainbridge.

Now she was up close to the woman, Norma could see the knife scar on the other woman’s face as she felt her hand being crushed in Mrs Bainbridge’s great scared paw.

“Pleased te meet yee,” the woman rumbled.

“Fletcher here is our coach,” Mackay explained.

“Yes,” Mrs Bainbridge replied laconically as her eyes took in the Slade team, “I herp yer lasses can gis mein a canny good game, liek.”

“Oh I think they will,” Norma bristled at the note of disdain in Bainbridge’s voice.

“Right,” Miss Mackay stepped between the two women, “Fletcher get your rabble organised,” she turned to Bainbridge and smiled, “If you’d come with me, Mrs Bainbridge I’ll show you to your changing room. We better get on, as you can see we’ve no floodlights…well not in the right places.”

“All right ladies,” Norma walked over to her team as she massaged the feeling back into her hand, “go and get changed,” falling in next to Buffy as they headed towards the changing room, Norma whispered to her cell-mate, “and I don’t want to see any pre-match hanky-panky between you an' McLaren, alright?”

“Yes Coach,” Buffy replied with a grin; to be honest ‘hanky-panky’ had been the furthest thing from her mind, but now Norma had mentioned it…

0=0=0=0

“Ah, excuse me,” the coach driver climbed down from his coach and walked over to Miss Barrowclough; he was a short slight man and looked a little ill at ease being surrounded by so many women, “Is there a petrol station close by? I need to top up before I head back tonight, the girls won’t want to stop on the way home.”

“Oh,” Miss Barrowclough nodded her head in understanding, “half a mile down the road in the village. Just turn to your right when you go out of the prison gates.”

“Oh thanks,” smiled the driver, “I’ll pop down at half-time, there won’t be any problem getting in or out will there?”

“Oh no,” Miss Barrowclough reassured him, “I’ll call ahead now and warn them you’ll be going out then coming back in at half-time.”

“Thanks,” the driver smiled, he turned and walked back to his bus.

Looking at her watch, Miss Barrowclough decided it was time to get changed, she was one of the lines-women today and Miss Mackay was the referee.

0=0=0=0

Walking into the Slade dressing room, Norma saw her girls dressed in their brand new medium blue football strip; the governor had bought it for them out of her own pocket. Walking between the cheerfully chattering young women, Norma noticed that Oaks wasn’t joining in with the pre-match banter, in fact she looked a little pale and ill.

“You alright, Oaksey?” Norma asked quietly as she patted the woman on the shoulder; she might not be much of a footballer but she was still one of the team.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Oaks replied without looking up, “pre-match nerves, y’know?”

“Okay fine,” Norma moved on and clapped her hands to get everybody’s attention, “all right listen up you nerks!”

Slowly the chatter in the room subsided and everyone turned their heads towards where Norma stood.

“Buffy,” Norma frowned at her cell-mate, “let go of McLaren’s hand, there’s no time for that sort of thing.”

The rest of the team gave a quiet laugh; now the tension had been broken, Norma could get on with what she wanted to say.

“Three things,” Norma began, a serious look coming over her face, “first; don’t be fooled by their genteel, lady like ways,” she told her team. “remember, once they’re out on that pitch they’re all stone hearted, cold blooded, vicious bitches who’d chop the legs from under their own grannies if it meant they’d get a shot at goal or a free kick. Don’t be fooled…I know they don’t look like much but they’re probably as bad as you lot, they just ‘aven’t been caught yet…after all they’re from Newcastle.”

Quiet laughter greeted Norma’s comments.

“Second,” Norma counted the points off on her fingers, “if you can’t get the ball, get the woman.”

This time there were mutterings of approval at Norma’s words, she obviously knew what she was talking about.

“Lastly,” Norma’s voice went low forcing her players to listen carefully to what she had to say, “remember the Battle of Britain; this could be Slade’s finest ninety minutes plus injury time, or if your name is Summers and don’t hail from these ‘sceptred isles’, remember the Alamo!”

“They’re Mexicans?” Bunny Warren asked in confusion, “I thought you said they were from Newcastle!”

“I saw that film once,” McLaren announced to the team, “it was on telly one Christmas, it had John Wayne in it.”

“Gawd help us,” Norma muttered to herself quietly, “oh never mind,” raising her voice Norma spoke to her team again, “Off you go then,” the women got up and headed for the door, “don’t forget what I taught you an’ whatever you do, don’t let them panic you into playing football!”

0=0=0=0

The Newcastle Ladies were met by a heartfelt cheer and a good round of applause as they ran onto the pitch. Most of Slade’s inmates were happy to see the other side and felt it was their duty to show there appreciation. After all this football match helped break up the dull routine of prison life. The cheer received by Slade United was all that you could expect for the home team and helped boast the team’s morale and confidence. Even Miss Mackay received a good round of applause with only a few cat calls thrown in as she ran out onto the field dressed in her black referee’s strip.

Trotting over to the far side of the pitch, Norma sat down on the bench provided with her substitute players and watched as the Newcastle team kicked a ball around as they warmed up. A frown crossed her face when she realised that the opposition didn’t look as useless as she’d at first assumed. Oh-well, she thought, her girls could deal with them.

“What am I doing benched with that pillock Oaks on the park?” asked Emily Hornett one of Norma’s subs.

“You’ll get on luv,” Norma predicted, “don’t fret,” Norma reached into her bucket which contained cold water and a sponge, “’ere,” she craftily passed Emily a brown bottle, “have a drop of liniment.”

This was the sort of ‘liniment’ that provided a little internal fortitude rather than easing muscular aches and pains. On the field Miss Mackay blew her whistle and called the two team captains to the centre spot.

“Now ladies,” Miss Mackay began, “lets have a good clean contest.”

“Its not a boxing match, Miss Mackay,” explained Lil Walker the Slade Captain.

“No indeed,” agreed Miss Mackay with a laugh, “that’s what I’m anxious to prevent.” Miss Mackay threw a coin up into the air, “Call!”

“Heads!” Cried the Newcastle captain as befitted the visiting team.

“Heads it is,” Mackay confirmed after picking up the coin.”

“We’ll stay as we are,” announced the visiting captain; having won the right to chose ends this gave Slade the kick off.

The two teams sorted themselves out and the crowd settled down to watch what they hoped was going to be a trilling ninety minutes plus injury time. After Miss Mackay blew her whistle to start the game, Walker passed the ball to Rudge who immediately passed it back to Buffy. Trapping the ball under her foot, Buffy glanced around quickly before starting to dribble the ball towards the Newcastle goal.

On the side of the pitch, the Governor walked up to Norma and sat down next to her.

“Good afternoon, Fletcher,” the governor began genially, “how’s it going?”

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,” Norma replied, “bit difficult to say seeing that the match only started ten seconds ago.”

“OH! WELL PLAYED SLADE!” shouted the governor getting into the spirit of the game; on the field Buffy had taken a shot at goal but it had been blocked by the Newcastle goalie. “That’s Summers isn’t it?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Norma agreed, “she’s turned out to be an unexpectedly good player, seeing how she’d never played or even seen the game before.”

“She’s got another three or so years to serve hasn’t she?” the governor asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Norma watched as the ball started to head towards the Slade goal, “she’ll be available to play for a little time yet.”

“Oh jolly good,” enthused the governor brightly, “just the ticket!”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear you say that, Ma’am,” Norma replied deadpan.

“Well,” the governor stood up, “I won’t take up any more of your time.”

Back out on the pitch, Rudge stole the ball from the feet of a Newcastle player and immediately cleared it to Buffy. Catching the ball on her upraised knee, Buffy let the ball drop to her feet before dribbling forward toward the Newcastle goal. After her last attempt at goal she now felt she had the measure of the opposition’s goalkeeper. Kicking the ball cheekily between the legs of a Newcastle defender, Buffy ran nimbly ‘round the woman to find herself with the ball at her feet and just outside the Newcastle penalty area.

Glancing up Buffy saw a gap between two Newcastle players; she sighted on the goalie and kicked the ball dead and true towards the gaol-mouth. By some miracle the Newcastle goalie saw the ball coming and managed to position herself in time to intercept Buffy’s shot. The Newcastle woman caught the ball against her chest; the force of Buffy’s kick knocked all the air from the girl’s lungs and sent her stumbling backwards into the back of the goal still clutching the ball.

“GOAL!” team and supporters yelled as Miss Mackay blew her whistle and called every one back to the centre for the restart.

This time it was Newcastle’s chance to kick off and equalize the score. Their captain passed back to one of their midfield players who passed it forward to one of their forwards who’d run out onto the wing. The girl got control of the ball and started to make her way towards the Slade goal. Coming out of nowhere, McLaren slid in and kicked the ball from the girl’s feet and over the line. Miss Barrowclough raised her flag awarding the throw in to Newcastle.

“That came off her!” objected McLaren.

“Oh did it?” Barrowclough changed her mind and gave the throw-in to Slade.

Over on the side of the pitch, Emily attracted Norma’s attention to what was going on.

“Looks like a message coming through in semaphore,” Norma quipped as Barrowclough waved her flag about uncertainly, “oh-yes,” she smiled, “sink the Bismarck!”

“Miss Barrowclough,” Miss Mackay’s voice floated across the pitch, “throw-in to Newcastle I think.”

“Is it?” Miss Barrowclough changed her mind yet again, “If you say so.”

Eventually, Newcastle got the throw in and continued their attack. One of their forwards managed to get a shot at goal just before Walker chopped her legs from under her. The ball trickled gently towards the goal mouth and right between the Slade goalie’s feet coming to rest at the back of the goal. A great groan rose from the throats of players and supporters alike.

Once again it was Slade’s kick-off and once again Buffy found the ball at her feet, running forward she chipped the ball over one Newcastle player’s head; she dummied left and went right, neatly side stepping a second defender. Finally when there was only one defender between Buffy and the goalie and she could hear feet pounding down the pitch towards her as she ran towards the Newcastle girl. Deciding that her best tactic was a sliding tackle at Buffy’s feet, the Newcastle girl came at her boots first. Nudging the ball slightly to the left, Buffy jumped over the tackle to land sure footed with the ball once more at her feet. Looking up for just a second she caught the eye of the Newcastle goalie and grinned at her in much the same way as she used to grin at vamps just before she staked them. Distracted by Buffy’s murderous smile, the Newcastle goalie didn’t stand a chance as Buffy kicked the ball into the top right hand corner of the net. Once more the Slade supporters cheered madly as Buffy found herself being mobbed by her team-mates.

With the score at two-one to Slade, the match restarted with a frantic attack on Slade’s goal by the Newcastle players. It seemed to have occurred to them that they needed to keep Buffy away from their goal-mouth and the best way of doing that was to keep the ball down the Slade end of the pitch. The Newcastle attack went straight down the middle of the field, they weren’t trying for anything subtle here. Their centre forward had the ball and was making good progress towards the Slade goal, when Oaks suddenly appeared, tackled the Newcastle player and by some wonder got the ball off her but then went down moaning onto the ground. Rolling about in agony, Oaks clutched her knee as Miss Mackay ran over to see what was wrong; Mackay and the Newcastle player tried to help Oaks to her feet but she fell down again as soon as they let go of her arms.

“Are you all reet, like?” asked the Newcastle player.

“It’s me knee,” Oaks claimed as she squeezed a few tears out of her eyes.

Signalling Norma over, Mackay noted the time so she could calculate injury time later.

“Oh bleedin’ ‘ell,” Norma muttered as she ran, clutching her bucket and sponge, over to where Oaks lay, “what’s gone wrong ‘ere then?”

“Cartilage trouble,” Oaks continued to nurse her knee, “I’ve had it before.”

“You’ll have to get her off you know,” Miss Mackay glanced at her watch again.

“Go on, Emily!” Norma called to her subs, “on you go, set ‘em alight!”

With the help of Harris (who was now working for Groutie), Norma managed to get Oaks off the pitch and into the dressing room.

“I’d best fetch the MO,” Norma said once she’d got Oaks sitting down in the dressing room.

“No!” Oaks replied quickly, “I’ll be alright, this has happened before I’ll just take the early bath.”

“If you’re sure?” Norma asked, she really wanted to get back outside and keep an eye on her team.

“I’ll be fine, Fletch,” Oaks reassured her, “you get back out to the girls, you’re needed there more than here.”

“Well if you’re sure,” Norma hesitated a moment longer.

“I’m sure,” Oaks smiled stoically up at her.

“If you say so,” Norma started to head for the door, “come on Harris.”

0=0=0=0

Once Norma and Harris had gone, Oaks stood up and walked towards the toilets all signs of any damage to her knee gone. The coach driver appeared from out of one of the stalls and immediately started to take his clothes off; moments later, Oaks followed suit.

0=0=0=0

Back out on the field the Newcastle attack had made headway and had forced the Slade players back almost to their goal line. There was a mad struggle for the ball out on the wing which ended with the ball going out of play and a corner kick being awarded to Newcastle. Taking up a defensive position behind the goalie, Buffy saw the ball sail towards her, she felt a Newcastle player take up position behind her. Rapid calculations of speeds and trajectories that she didn’t even realise she was making told her that the ball would go over her head and give the Newcastle player a chance of scoring.

Jumping up to intercept the ball and head it clear of the goal-mouth, Buffy miscalculated her distance from the actual goal posts. Pulling her head back to head the ball, the back of Buffy’s head came into hard physical contact with the metal goal post. There was a loud *BONG!* as Buffy’s head struck metal. Everyone that heard the sound winced in sympathetic pain as they watched Buffy collapse onto the ground like a boneless, rag doll.

0=0=0=0

Back in the changing room the coach driver was down to his underwear while, Oaks had put on his discarded clothes and was pushing her hair up under the flat-cap the driver had been wearing. Taking the revolver that had been taped to his leg, the driver passed the weapon to Oaks who slipped it into the pocket of the driver’s coat.

0=0=0=0

Out on the field, Mackay rushed over to Buffy and knelt down beside her; much to her surprise, Buffy was showing signs of consciousness and was even trying to push herself up into a sitting position. However, Mackay wasn’t fooled, like everyone else she’d heard Buffy’s head come into violent contact with the post.

“How many fingers am I holding up, Summers?” Mackay asked as she held up two fingers in front of Buffy’s eyes.

“You so don’t fool me, Miss Mackay,” Buffy replied belligerently, “that’s totally five of them!”

“The lass is concussed,” Mackay turned to Norma who’d just come back from her trip to the changing rooms, “Fletcher, you’ll have to take her off.”

After calling for yet another sub to take Buffy’s place, Norma helped her to her feet with a little aid from Mackay and steered her towards the changing rooms.

0=0=0=0

“Not too tight!” cried the coach driver as Oaks tied his hands behind his back.

The driver was sitting in one of the toilet stalls dressed only in his underwear with his hands and feet bound with tape. Oaks was now fully dressed in the driver’s clothes, with her hair hidden under the driver’s cap she looked shockingly similar to the coach driver.

“’ere,” called the driver as Oaks finished tying him up, “don’t forget the specs.”

Taking the glasses from the driver’s face, Oaks put them on; using a little boot polish, Oaks drew on a moustache before putting on the driver’s coat. Now fully in her disguise she looked chillingly like the driver. At least she would to any screw who happened to see her driving the coach out of the prison. Looking up Oaks saw Norma lead Buffy into the changing room.

“Go on, Buffy,” Norma gently led Buffy over to a bench, “sit down and I’ll get some water and bathe your face.”

“No you won’t, Fletch,” Oaks stepped out from behind a wall to confront Norma and Buffy.

0=0=0=0


	19. Chapter 19

20.

**New York, New York (now isn’t it a pity? What they’re saying ‘bout New York City?)**

Once again the big, black, shiny limo glided to a halt in an underground parking lot, this time it was under a block of exclusive apartments overlooking Central Park. Half a second after the vehicle had stopped the door to the passenger compartment opened and out climbed Willow, Kennedy and Rona. Only a couple of seconds later the driver and ‘shotgun’ climbed from the front seats.

“Were you able to get everything I asked for?” Kennedy wanted to know as she walked rapidly around to the limo’s trunk.

“Yes Miss Kennedy,” the young man in the well tailored suit and dark glasses joined Kennedy at the trunk and produced a bunch of keys, unlocking the trunk he stepped back to allow Kennedy to inspect the contents.

Stepping forward, Kennedy opened the two hold alls that lay on the floor of the trunk; she smiled when she saw the contents of the bags.

“That’s great,” Kennedy lifted a shoulder holster from one of the bags, “its Malcolm isn’t it?”

“Yes Miss Kennedy,” intoned the young man.

“Well, thank-you Malcolm,” Kennedy gave the young man a dazzling smile, “this is just what I wanted.”

“My pleasure Miss Kennedy,” the young man nodded and stepped away leaving Kennedy to sort out the equipment in the bags.

“What are you doing with that?” Willow frowned at the shoulder holster Kennedy was putting on over her t-shirt.

“I’m going to put this in it,” Kennedy picked up a 9mm automatic pistol, ejected the magazine, pulled back the slide and inspected the breach and barrel before letting the slide spring back into place and replacing the magazine.

“Guns are dangerous,” Willow said with just a hint of a whine, she’d not really got over the time she’d almost shot Kennedy.

“No sweetheart,” Kennedy slipped the pistol into its holster under her arm, “I’m dangerous this,” she patted the weapon, “is just a tool like a stake or a knife.”

Willow didn’t look convinced.

“Look,” Kennedy turned to give Willow one of her special ‘Willow you worry too much’ looks. “If the shooting starts I want to be able to shoot back.”

“There’s gonna be shooting!?” Willow squeaked in horror.

“Who knows?” Kennedy pulled a small leather case from the hold all and slipped it into the pocket of her black denim jacket before putting it on.

“Hey, do I get one of those?” Rona gestured at Kennedy’s pistol as it was being rapidly hidden away.

“No,” Kennedy reached into the trunk and pulled out the larger of the two holdalls, “you get this!”

Kennedy threw the bag to Rona, it *clinked* loudly as Rona caught it.

“What’s in here?” Rona started to struggle with the bag as she tried to unzip it.

“Here,” stepping forward Kennedy unzipped the bag, reaching inside she held up a set of heavy steel shackles.

“Cool!” Willow smiled her eyes sparkling as they fell on the chains.

“They’re not for you,” Kennedy pointed out, “they’re for our friend upstairs.”

“Oh, darn,” Willow sighed longingly as the chains were put back in the bag; it had been ages since Kennedy had chained her to the bed and ‘tortured’ her.

“So what’s the plan?” Rona asked giving her comrades a worried look.

“Simple,” Kennedy smiled, “best keep it that way, less to go wrong,” she took a breath, “We go up in the elevator, seventh floor right?”

“Seventh floor, apartment three,” Rona confirmed.

“Willow zaps him,” Kennedy went on, “I grab him and Rona puts on the chains.”

“Why would Rona want to wear the chains?” Willow asked, “Hey!” she said defensively as both slayers turned to glare at her, “I’m just trying to defuse any tension here, okay?”

“Later, Will,” Kennedy sighed, “where was I?”

“Rona’s putting on the chains,” Willow smirked.

“I shall give you such a spanking, Willow Rosenberg,” Kennedy whispered.

“Pleeeeez!” Willow begged breathlessly.

“Hey guys?” Rona called grabbing everyone’s attention, “Kidnapping the wizard guy here, remember?”

“Sorry,” Kennedy tried to get the mental pictures of Willow’s rosy red butt squirming in her lap out of her head, “okay once we’ve got him chained up. We take him down the elevator, then into the car and out to the airport and home, I don’t think we’ll be more than ten minutes.”

”What if we meet someone on the way down?” Rona asked.

“Then we show them these,” Kennedy passed out three FBI ID’s to her friends, “Just wave these around and shout ‘Federal Agent’, don’t be afraid to use buzz words like, ‘killer’, ‘paedophile’ or ‘terrorist’. No one will question us on it.”

“Unless they’re the real FBI,” Willow pointed out.

“Just how likely is that to happen?” Kennedy asked, she thought about this for a moment before adding, “It’s probably safer if you just smile and nod and don’t say anything…okay lets go.”

The three young women started to head towards the elevators, half way there, Kennedy paused and turned to look at the two young men who were still waiting patiently by the limo.

“Hey guys,” Kennedy called, “give us thirty minutes, if we’re not down by then get out of here and report back to my father, okay?”

“Yes Miss Kennedy,” the young men chorused.

0=0=0=0

Stepping out on to the seventh floor, Kennedy looked up and down the tastefully furnished corridor.

“Which way?” she asked Rona.

“Down here,” Rona pointed and led the way along the corridor to a door with an artistically designed number three on it, “in here.”

“Everyone ready?” Kennedy asked as she drew her pistol and pulled back the slide, there were answering nods from Willow and Rona.

Lifting her foot to kick in the door, Kennedy froze in place as Willow asked;

“Are we sure he’s in there?”

“Yeah!” Rona whispered urgently; they were standing in a corridor clutching guns and chains, anybody could just happen by! “Look, the life style he’s been leading he doesn’t surface to nearly one o’clock in the afternoon.

“Okay,” Willow nodded, “just checking.”

“Right,” Kennedy lifted her foot again, “on three…one, two!”

Kicking the door open on ‘two’, Kennedy rushed into the hall way; it was just then that she realised the flaw in her plan, she’d no idea were Rayne’s bedroom was! Luckily, Willow found it in about ten seconds simply by making every door in the apartment open. Running into a room that turned out to be the master bedroom, Kennedy rushed over to the bed and hauled back on the sheets.

“Damn-it!” she cried; in the bed lay a naked and somewhat ‘aroused’ Ethan Rayne plus a young blonde woman.

“Oh my!” Rona gasped at the sight of Ethan’s swollen member.

“Stop staring and chain him up!” Kennedy ordered.

“What the hell?” Rayne started to complain as Rona moved towards him, chains in hand.

“You know who I am!?” Willow demanded her hair having turned jet black, her skin paling and the veins standing out under her alabaster skin. 

“Oh my god,” Rayne whispered in fear, “its you, its Willow Rosenberg!”

“What’s goin’ on honey?” the girl asked as she tried to cover herself up with the sheet. “Is she an old girlfriend or something, ‘cause I’ve gotta say, ewww!”

“Just what sort of perv are you Rayne?” Willow wanted to know after casting the girl a glance, “How old is she? Seventeen?”

“NO!” Ethan tried to protest as the chains were locked around his wrists and he was pulled roughly to his feet by one slayer while the other pointed a gun at his head. “This is all some terrible misunderstanding!”

“Misunderstanding?” Willow’s face was terrible to behold, under the circumstances, Ethan was showing amazing aplomb. “First you cast spells over my best friend then you…you,” Willow was slightly lost for words which sort of spoiled the entire ‘Evil-Bitch-Witch’ thing she had going. “You’re a very bad man!”

“Spells?” demanded the girl who had by now wrapped herself in a sheet and was standing next to the bed, “Ethan honey what’s going on?” she turned to look at Willow, “You really think I look seventeen?”

“Or eighteen,” Willow replied momentarily caught off guard.

“Well I do try to moisturise regularly,” explained the girl just before Willow put her to sleep with a wave of her hand.

“Ready?” Kennedy demanded.

“Ready,” Rona confirmed snapping the last lock shut.

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” grabbing Ethan by one of his chains, Kennedy pulled him through the apartment and out into the corridor.

Running ahead, Rona called for the elevator while Willow brought up the rear.

“If you’d just tell me what I’m supposed to have done!?” Ethan begged as he shuffled along behind Kennedy, “Surely we could come to some sort of arrangement.”

The elevator *dinged* as it arrived and the doors slid open; Kennedy bundled Ethan into the car and nodded politely to the old couple who were already in the elevator. Getting in behind her, Willow started to reverse her ‘anti-glamour’ spell, while Rona studiously studied the wall and tried to ignore the oldies standing at the back of the car. After possibly the longest and most embarrassing elevator ride in history, the three women bundled their prisoner out of the elevator and over towards the limo.

“Look,” Ethan begged, “I’ll tell you everything if you just tell me what you want!”

“Can’t you shut him up?” Kennedy asked as they neared the limo.

“Like this?” Willow waved her hand again and no sound came from Ethan’s mouth however hard he tried to shout.

“Better,” Kennedy grinned at her lover before calling over her father’s employees, “hey, guys, hand here.”

The two young men rushed over and took hold of Ethan’s arms.

“Put him in the trunk please,” Kennedy asked, the young men dragged a struggling Ethan towards the trunk as the three women stood in a huddle and looked at each other.

“I think we need a little more practice,” Willow pointed out.

“We’ll do better next time,” Kennedy reassured her.

“There’s gonna be a next time?” Rona asked uncertainly.

0=0=0=0

After a quick drive to the little private airport on the coast south of New York, Kennedy supervised the loading of Ethan Rayne into her father’s private jet. Going back to the limo she called the two young men over to her.

“Thanks for all the help guys,” she smiled pleasantly.

“You’re welcome Miss Kennedy,” the two young men replied.

“Now, can you drive Miss Rona home and make sure she’s okay?” Kennedy watched as the young men nodded their heads.

Turning away Kennedy walked back towards the jet; she bade her farewells to Rona before climbing aboard and joining Willow in the cabin. Sitting in one of the plush leather seats, she accepted a soft drink off the stewardess and sat back as the aircraft taxied out on to the runway.

“Where’s Ethan?” Willow asked from the seat next to hers.

“He’s in the cargo hold in a sealed box,” Kennedy sipped at her soda.

“Won’t he suffocate?” Willow didn’t sound overly concerned.

“Don’t worry,” Kennedy reassured her, “he has his own oxygen supply.”

“Oh good,” Willow relaxed back into her seat as the jet picked up speed ready for take off, “remind me to send your father a thank-you note when we get home and maybe a bottle of that whisky he likes.”

“You’re so thoughtful, Willow,” Kennedy reached out and took hold of Willow’s hand, “he’d appreciate that.”

“He’d appreciate it more if his daughter phoned home a little more often,” Willow frowned.

“Actually I was thinking of going home for a visit,” Kennedy smiled evilly as she remembered something, “would you mind if we took Dawn and Faith along?”

“No, why?” the penny dropped in Willow’s mind a second later, “No you can’t use Faith to terrorise your stepmother!”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

“Oh my gawd,” Norma sighed as she caught sight of the coach driver sitting tied up in one of the stalls; quickly her mind put two and two together and started to try and think her and Buffy’s way out of this situation. “Look,” she pleaded with Oaks, “we ain’t seen nothin’, have we Buffy?”

“Seen what?” Buffy stared blankly about the room as she swayed from side to side on the bench.

“This is your caper, Oaksey,” Norma tried to sound business like and serious, “I don’t want nothin’ to do with this.”

“They saw you come in ‘ere, didn’t they?” Oaks brandished her gun under Norma’s nose, “Ya just gonna sit there until half time and pretend you didn’t see ‘im?” Oaks jerked her head in the direction of the coach driver.

“Notice what?” Buffy asked dreamily.

“You’ll have to take them with you,” called the driver from the toilet stall.

“Y’what?” Oaks turned towards the driver and just for a second Norma considered jumping her; perhaps if Buffy wasn’t off with the fairies she might have but before the thought was really in her mind Oaks was back to pointing her gun at Norma’s middle.

“You’ve got no choice, have you,” the driver said desperately, “if you don’t I’ll be in it an’all!”

“Look Oaksey,” Norma started to panic, she didn’t want to be part of any jailbreak, “me an’ Buffy ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Oaks snapped as she brandished her revolver once more.

“Oh bleedin’ ‘ell,” Norma sighed heavily and rested her back against the wall, who’d have thought it was so difficult to stay in prison?

“Come on, up!” Oaks waved her gun towards Buffy.

“Come on luv,” Norma helped Buffy to her feet, “we’re goin’ for a little trip.”

“It’s out ball, Miss Mackay!” Buffy said still thinking she was out on the pitch, “A corner!”

“See,” Norma tried once more to make Oaks see sense, “she knows nothin’, she’s got amnesia.”

“Come on,” cried the bound driver, “get on with it.”

Trying to keep an eye on Norma and Buffy, Oaks went over to the driver, she slipped her pistol into the pocket of the jacket she was wearing and pulled out the remains of the roll of tap she’d used to tie the driver up with. Deftly she put a length of tape across the driver’s mouth silencing him. Coming back into the dressing room proper she gave Norma and Buffy a warning look before heading for the door. Sticking her head outside, Oaks saw that the coach had been parked in such away as to block anyone’s view of the door to the changing room.

Pausing for a moment Oaks wondered where she was going to put Norma and Buffy, if she put them in the coach proper there was always the chance that either of them might call attention to her breakout. Looking along the side of the coach, Oaks’ eye fell on the doors to the luggage compartments under the passenger compartment. If she remembered correctly these compartments were huge, there’d be more than enough room to stash Fletcher and Summers. Taking the coach keys from her pocket, Oaks quickly found the one that’d open the luggage compartment. Stepping towards the bus she quickly unlocked the closest section and looked inside. Plenty of room, she told herself before going back inside the changing rooms to collect her two unwilling accomplices. 

“Right, shift!” Oaks told Norma and Buffy gesturing towards them with her gun.

“He-He!” Buffy giggled as Norma guided her past Oaks, “Oaksey in drag!”

Keeping Norma and Buffy covered with her gun, Oaks slipped outside and opened the hatch to the luggage compartment.

“Right in!” Oaks waved Norma and Buffy towards the open hatch with her gun.

“You’ve gotta be kidding!” Norma gasped and hesitated, she tried to talk Oaks out of her plan again, “Look the girl’s hurt,” she pleaded, “she needs to see the MO.”

“I’m warning you Fletcher,” Oaks was starting to panic, “get in!”

Stepping forward, Norma resignedly climbed into the luggage compartment.

“C’mon, Slade!” Buffy called as she staggered about aimlessly, “Take no prisoners!” she called and for some reason found this incredibly funny.

Roughly, Oaks bundled Buffy into the compartment with Norma before hiding the gun in her pocket and locking the hatch. When she was satisfied that Norma and Buffy couldn’t escape (the irony of this escaped her completely) she walked rapidly around to the front of the coach, opened the driver’s door and climbed aboard. Sitting in the driver’s seat for a moment or two, Oaks familiarised herself with the controls before slipping the keys into the ignition and starting the engine.

The big diesel burst into rumbling life as Oaks held onto the steering wheel with one hand and put the vehicle in gear with the other. Letting off the handbrake she slowly pulled away from the changing rooms her palms sweating on the wheel. As promised earlier by the screw there was no trouble just driving out of the prison. The screws opened the gates and waved her through; no one seemed to be bothered about searching the bus. Sooner than she’d expected, Oaks found herself driving through the last set of prison gates and out onto the open road. A big smile split her face and she gave a ‘yip’ of joy as she realised she was free, after six long years she’d be able to leave the country and enjoy her ill-gotten gains. 

Turning to the left, Oaks drove out onto the narrow country road and steadily increased her speed. Not too fast, she told herself, she didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to herself. Following her memorised instructions, she drove into the local village and turned right at the cross roads. Heading up a gentle slope, she drove the bus into an area of woods where the road snaked about between the trees. Looking out for the lane she’d been told about, Oaks slowed down not wanting to miss it. Turning off onto the narrow farm track, she drove on for a couple of minutes until she saw a dark haired woman in a green coat waving to her. Following the woman’s signals, Oaks slowed down and pulled onto the side of the track. A few yards further on a man in a sheep skin coat waited next to a campervan; part one of the escape plan had finished, part two was about to begin.

0=0=0=0


	20. Chapter 20

21.

**Somewhere in Cumbria.**

The coach bounced off the track and came to a halt under some trees; the woman in the green coat ran over to the bus and looked up at Oaks through the driver’s side window.

“Everything alright?” she called as she ran up to the bus.

“Who’s the fella?” Oaks demanded urgently.

“My bother-in-law,” the woman opened the driver’s door and stood back as Oaks started to climb down, “it looks more natural,” explained the woman, “a married couple touring.”

“Oh, I suppose so,” Oaks admitted grudgingly.

“Come on then,” urged the woman, “we need to get away from here.”

“I know,” Oaksey bent down to open the luggage compartment, “hold on a minute.”

“What?” the woman turned to see what Oaks was doing, “You didn’t bring a suitcase did you?”

“Don’t be bleedin’ stupid,” Oaks snapped as she pulled open the hatch, “come on Fletcher.”

Muttering and groaning, Norma climbed out of the compartment before turning to help Buffy who was still a little unsteady on her feet.

“I wasn’t told about this,” gasped the woman at the two prisoner’s sudden appearance.

Still grinning a little foolishly Buffy was lead over to the camper van by Norma as Oaks chivvied them along and the woman muttered angrily about not having been told about the change in plan.

“Who are they?” demanded the man in the sheepskin jacket as he opened the door to the back of the camper van.

“Don’t ask me,” grumbled the woman.

“Look Norma,” Buffy pointed in wonder at the man by the camper van, “a real guy!”

“Yeah alright,” Norma steered Buffy into the back of the camper, “don’t get over excited and anyway, I thought you were supposed to be gay.”

Five minutes later the camper van was heading north towards the Scottish border.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

Blowing her whistle for half time, Miss Mackay brought the match to a halt only to nearly be knocked off her feet as Miss Barrowclough hurried by.

“What’s the hurry, Henrietta?” Miss Mackay unusually used Barrowclough’s first name.

“I’ve got to ‘powder me nose’,” Barrowclough called over her shoulder as she headed towards the changing rooms.

Smiling to herself, Miss Mackay walked slowly over to the touchline and saw the Governor walking towards her.

“I see our girls are doing very well,” grinned the Governor.

“Aye,” Mackay nodded, “not bad.”

“Oh, Mackay,” the Governor said slowly, “credit where credits due, I think two-one is better than just ‘not bad’, or is that just your dour Scot’s nature talking?”

“Maybe it is,” Mackay admitted grudgingly.

“Now where’s Fletcher and that girl Summers?” the Governor wanted to know.

“Miss Mackay!” Miss Barrowclough hurried across the pitch a worried look on her face.

“What is it Miss Barrowclough?” Mackay sighed, couldn’t Barrowclough go to the Ladies without bothering her? “Can’t you see that I’m talking to the Governor?”

“There’s something you ought to know,” Miss Barrowclough whispered something in Mackay’s ear; two minutes later the match was abandoned.

0=0=0=0

**A camper van heading towards Scotland.**

“Cheer up Fletch!” Oaks opened a can of lager and placed it in front of Norma, she picked up another and placed it in front of Buffy. “I’ve done you a favour, we’re free and clear!”

“You think they haven’t blocked the roads?” Norma picked up her lager and took a drink while Buffy just grinned absently at hers.

“We’re going north,” Oaks smirked, “to Scotland, they’ll never expect that.” Oaks started to take off her male clothing and put on women’s clothes, “They’ll never figure on Dumfries!”

“Queen of the South, that’s their team.” Buffy said dreamily, “Scottish League Division ‘B’ as was…”

Norma gave Buffy a concerned look, obviously her concussion was far worse than she’d suspected.

“Queen of the South, one,” Buffy started to read out imaginary football results, “Hamilton Academicals, nil.”

“Is she alright?” Oaks asked brightly as she wiped the fake moustache from her upper lip.

“She banged ‘er ‘ead,” Norma placed a motherly hand on Buffy’s, “By rights she should see a doctor. At least she’s oblivious to this fiasco.”

“St Johnson, three,” as if to prove Norma’s point, Buffy continued with her fantasy football results, “Aberdeen, one.”

“What do you mean, fiasco?” Oaks said defensively, “Sweet as a nut this!”

“Listen,” Norma was by this time more than a little annoyed, “you might have your reasons, but me an’ Buffy ‘ere just want to do our time and come out free women, we don’t want to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. You’re doing us no favours, Oaksey.” Norma took another mouthful of beer, “I mean we haven’t got the money for plastic surgery and a plane ticket to Mexico and I certainly do not relish a winter in Dumfries!”

“I’m very sorry about that,” the amused smirk on Oaks’ face made her a liar, “but I had to bring you along, you can see that can’t you?”

“But you don’t have to bring us any further,” Norma pleaded, “you could dump us at the side of the road. Gawd knows we’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“You know about Dumfries,” Oaks pointed out, a point Norma couldn’t argue with, but she tried just the same.

“Look,” Norma pointed at herself, “I don’t know nothin’, it’s still them and us, remember?”

A couple of minutes later, the camper van stopped at the side of the deserted country road; the back door opened and out stepped Norma followed by a still dazed Buffy.

“On y’way then,” Oaks called from the back of the van.

“Thanks,” Norma sounded relieved as she held onto Buffy’s arm to stop her wondering off, “see you around Oaksey.”

“I hope not!” Oaks cried as she closed the door and the van moved off.

“We’re out!” Buffy said as she gazed off after the rapidly moving van.

“Yeah, I know, luv,” Norma was not a happy escaped convict, she looked around at all the alien fields and trees and wished she was in a nice safe city; she’d know what to do next if she was. 

Nudging Buffy’s arm she lead the way towards the hedge that separated the road from the fields.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison.**

“What do you mean, you’ve lost my Sister?” Dawn demanded of the prison officer; Dawn and Faith had arrived for their usual monthly visit with Buffy.

“N-not s-so much lost,” Miss Barrowclough was already feeling flustered, what with the breakout; the looks the younger Miss Summers was giving her didn’t help her nerves, “More misplaced, if you see what I mean?”

“Misplaced!?” Dawn felt like exploding; these bozos had lost her sister and to cover up their incompetence they were claiming that Buffy and two other prisoners had escaped. “You’ll be hearing from my legal team if anything happens to my sister because of your stupidity!”

Turning away from the stunned prison officer, Dawn took Faith by the arm and dragged her towards the exit.

“Quick!” Dawn whispered out of the side of her mouth, “I think Buffy’s escaped, we need to get out of here before they start to think we might have had something to do with it.”

Hurrying off down the corridors towards the main gate, Dawn started to plan, she already had an idea or two on how to take advantage of the situation. Obviously, Buffy couldn’t stand being in jail any longer and had decided to breakout; what Dawn couldn’t understand was why her sister hadn’t mentioned her plans to her.

0=0=0=0

“What do ya wanna do?” Faith asked as soon as they were safely out of prison; the two women walked quickly towards their car.

“First,” Dawn searched in her bag for her mobile phone, “I need to get Willow to send me a ‘Locator spell’ and then,” Dawn grinned at her girlfriend, “we need to find Buffy and get her away from here!”

0=0=0=0

**Somewhere in Cumbria.**

Sitting on a bail of hay, Buffy washed her face in a bucket of water.

“Buffy, are you feeling better now?” Norma asked as she stood in the middle of the barn looking down at her friend.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, “I think so…this is so unfair!”

“Unfair?” Norma gave Buffy a puzzled look, “I think it’s a bit more than ‘unfair’.”

“No I mean, we were winning,” Buffy moaned, “then I totally hit my head and we get kidnapped,” she looked up at Norma, “I’m sorry Norma, if I’d been more careful we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Never mind,” Norma smiled in that special way ‘mums’ did and sat down next to Buffy, she put an arm around Buffy’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze, “not your fault luv, not your fault.”

“So,” Buffy shrugged, “what do we do now? I’ll tell you this, I’ve done a lot of weird stuff in my life, but breaking out of jail isn’t one of them.”

“Well,” Norma ran her hand over her face, “I think we’re safe here tonight. We can make ourselves warm enough under some hay or something.”

“Yeah, we can snuggle up together,” Buffy suggested.

“Naffin’ ‘ell Summers!” Norma complained, “It’s nothing but sex, sex, sex with you ain’t it? I know you’ve been waiting your chance to get me into bed with you.” Norma stopped her humorous banter and became serious again. “Look we need to keep clear heads to get ourselves out of this mess.”

“We’ll need something to eat soon,” Buffy pointed out just as a chicken clucked noisily close by, “here we could catch a chicken and eat that!”

“No good luv,” Norma shook her head sadly.

“Why?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Well, its after closing time,” Norma explained, “all the shops’ll be shut, we’ll never find any sage and onion stuffing.”

Finding some apples, Norma passed a few over to Buffy, they sat down next to each other and ate their apples.

“Bleedin’ Oaksey,” Norma muttered angrily around her apple, “she’s really dropped us in the soft and smelly.”

“Totally wasn’t our fault,” Buffy pointed out, “like it wasn’t our idea to break out.”

“I know,” Norma agreed, “but the screws don’t know that, I can just hear them,” Norma did a passable impersonation of Miss Mackay, “This match was Fletcher’s idea. They’ll put two and two together and come up with three.”

“Three?” Buffy looked puzzled.

“Yeah,” Norma sighed heavily, “three years added to our sentences…we can’t let ‘em catch us Buffy, not if you want to do your time and get out a free woman.”

“So,” to Buffy the answer was blindingly clear, “we totally give ourselves up!”

“No, they won’t listen!” Norma explained, “Do you really think some young Bobby is goin’ to pass up the chance of recapturing two desperate criminals? They wouldn’t let us get a word in edge ways and they’d probably not believe us anyway,” Norma was getting really agitated now at the injustice of the world, “A commendation for him,” she muttered angrily, “another notch on ‘is truncheon.”

“Don’t mention truncheons please, Norma,” Buffy said quietly.

“What?” Norma looked down at Buffy sharply, “Oh! Yeah, sorry luv, it just slipped out…”

Buffy looked at Norma again and gave her a pained look.

“Sorry,” Norma repeated.

“What are we going to do?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Well actually I’ve got the perfect solution,” Norma announced hesitantly.

“What?” Buffy asked.

“We’re goin’ to break back into prison!” Norma declared shockingly.

0=0=0=0

**‘B’ Wing, Slade Prison.**

Although they were all locked up in their cells the prisoners of ‘B’ Wing sang lustily to celebrate the escape of three of their number.

_”Nymphs and shepherds gone away,  
Gone away! Gone away!  
Nymphs and shepherds gone away,  
Gone away! Gone away!  
Gone, gone, gone, gone away!”_

In her cell Groutie sat on her bed and lit a cigar, she smiled broadly. Things had gone perfectly, not only did she get to keep the £25,000 that Oaksey had paid her to break her out. It also appeared that the annoying slayer and her friend had got out too; she couldn’t have done it better if she’d planned it herself!

0=0=0=0

**A Barn in Cumbria.**

Curled up under the straw, Buffy’s eyes snapped open as she heard the car pull up outside, gently she shook Norma awake.

“Shhhh,” Buffy whispered, “there’s someone outside.”

“Police?” Norma shifted slightly in the dark.

“Don’t know,” Buffy started to climb to her feet, “I’ll go check it out.”

Stealthily, Buffy got to her feet and crept over to the wall of the barn were she looked out through a gap between a boarded up window frame and the barn’s stonework.

“It’s a car alright,” Buffy called softly back to Norma, “but I can’t…OH MY GOD!”

“WHAT!?” Norma cried already resigning herself to losing any chance of remission and having three years added to her sentence.

Running over to the barn door, Buffy pulled it open and ran outside. Slowly Norma crossed the barn until she could see what was going on outside and why there was so much noise. The sight that met her eyes made her frown; in the moonlight she could see Buffy hugging two other women as they all jumped up and down and squealed like schoolgirls.

“Probably not the police then,” Norma observed dryly; she advanced on the happy throng and tried to attach the attention of Buffy and her friends. “Excuse me,” Norma called, “this is supposed to be a jailbreak not a Girl Guide Jamboree!”

The sound of Norma’s voice appeared to sober the three women and they stopped jumping around and screaming. There was a quiet, muffled conversation as the women broke up and stood for awhile before a figure detached itself from the group and walked towards Norma while the other two walked away from the barn a little ways.

“Hi,” came an American voice from the figure that walked towards Norma, “I’m Faith, ya must be Norma, let’s go talk inside.”

Feeling the American woman’s hand on her arm, Norma found herself being pulled inexorably back into the barn; like Buffy this Faith woman was stronger than she looked.

“Let’s sit an’ talk,” Faith suggested, “while B visits with Dawnie, okay?”

“Okay,” Norma agreed as they walked further into the barn, “‘ere, aren’t you the Faith that was in prison in the States?”

“Yeah,” Faith sat down on a bail of hay.

Sitting down on another, Norma didn’t like the way things were developing, she had a horrible feeling that she was going to be left hanging in the wind, left to face the music by herself.

“Double murder,” Faith announced, “twenty-five to life.”

“Double murder?” Norma gulped.

“Don’t worry,” Faith smiled, “I’m over it now.”

“G-good,” Norma only felt marginally better at Faith’s reassurance.

“Here,” Faith held something out to Norma.

Taking the offering, Norma saw it was a bar of chocolate, fruit and nut, one of her favourites.

“I suppose you’ll be taking Buffy home now,” Norma slipped the chocolate bar into a pocket.

“Don’t know,” Faith shrugged, “depends what B wants to do.”

“Oh yeah,” Norma exclaimed, “like she’s goin’ to pass up a chance to go home with her little sister and leave me stuck out here all on me Jack Jones!”

“Hey,” Faith couldn’t help but laugh, “ya B’s friend ain’t ya?”

“Suppose,” Norma admitted reluctantly.

“One thing I’ve learnt about B over the years,” Faith explained quietly.

“What’s that?” Norma asked bitterly.

“She never gives up on a friend,” Faith smiled in the darkness, “she never gave up on me and I tried to kill her.”

“You what?” Norma felt like running but somehow she knew this Faith-woman would catch her.

“Like I say I’m over that,” Faith continued, “if ya half the friend to her I think ya are, she’d never leave ya behind.”

“Oh,” Norma didn’t know what to say, she’d never had a friend like Buffy before.

“Okay,” Faith rested her back against the wall of the barn, “what’s ya story?”

0=0=0=0

“You understand why I’ve got to do this, don’t you Dawnie?” Buffy asked as she held on tightly to Dawn’s hand.

“Honestly?” Dawn was close to tears, “No, Buffy I don’t…” desperation started to enter Dawn’s voice at the prospect of losing her sister yet again, “Look, Kennedy’s dad knows some people who can get you a fake identity…”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Buffy had known about Kennedy’s and her father’s links to organised crime for some time, she just didn’t know what to do about them.

“Shut-up for just a minute and let me speak!” Dawn snapped belligerently, “Look, he can get you a new identity, you wouldn’t have to live in some scummy crap-hole of a country, you could go live in Canada or somewhere. We could all move to be near you…”

“No,” Buffy said calmly and quietly, “it’s got to be this way, I’ve got to get back to jail and either serve my time or get out legally.”

“But…” tears of frustration rolled down Dawn’s cheeks and glinted in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry, Dawn,” Buffy could feel her own eyes start to burn, “and what about Norma, she wants to go straight and go back to her kids. It would never work if she went back alone…without me, it’s got to be both of us.”

“S-so, w-we can take her with us we can get you both out get her kids to her in Canada or somewhere,” Dawn pleaded, “we can make this work, Buffy I know we can.”

“Sorry Dawn,” Buffy leant towards her sister and kissed her on the cheek, “but I’ve got to go now…I’ll see you next visiting day, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dawn replied miserably just before she rushed after Buffy and grabbed hold of her, “Please don’t go…I can’t lose you again.”

0=0=0=0

“…so,” Norma asked nonchalantly, “this gay thing, does it run in the family?”

“Nah,” Faith laughed, she liked Norma, she was the sort of woman she’d have wanted as a Mom had she had the choice, “it’s a little too complicated to explain just now…”

“Faith?” Buffy called from the barn door.

“Hey,” Faith stood up and offered her hand to Norma, they shook hands warmly, “nice to have met ya,” Faith nodded to the other woman, “time for me to go, look after y’self.”

“Faith,” Buffy looked deep into Faith’s eyes, “I’m staying, Dawn’ll need you now.”

“Thought ya would,” Faith held Buffy in a bear hug for a moment, “anything I can do for ya?”

“Yeah,” Buffy gasped, “you can let me breathe, okay?”

“Sorry,” Faith let go of her friend.

“Look,” Buffy sounded deadly serious, “I want you to make it clear to Giles, Willow and everyone, that the only way I’m coming out of this is legally, okay?”

“No problemo,” Faith agreed, “I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re a star Faith.”

“Right back at ya, B.”

0=0=0=0

After standing and watching Dawn and Faith drive away, Buffy turned to Norma and smiled as if nothing had happened.

“Okay,” Buffy said, “it’ll soon be dawn, what’s your master plan for getting us back inside?”

“Ah, well,” Norma shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, “I was rather hoping that you’d have some cunning plan worked out by now.”

0=0=0=0


	21. Chapter 21

22.

**A Barn, Cumbria.**

It was just getting light as the two reluctant escapees left the barn, their pockets full of stolen apples, and chocolate bars given to them by Dawn and Faith. A dog started to bark somewhere as they began to run across the fields, they didn’t stop until they were in another field and the dog had stopped complaining. They crossed several more fields until they came to a road. Lifting her leg to climb the fence so they could cross to the fields on the other side, Norma froze and then threw herself back into the field. Huddling behind a hedge, Buffy and Norma watched as a police car sped by.

“That was close,” Norma breathed a sigh of relief as the patrol car disappeared off into the distance.

“I’m beginning to wish I’d taken my sister up on her offer to help,” Buffy nudged Norma when she saw the road was empty.

“Me too,” Norma agreed as she climbed over the fence, “me, naffin’ too!”

Walking on across several more fields, Buffy got to wondering if they were going in the right direction.

“Hey Norma,” Buffy called as they tramped across yet another field.

“What?” Norma asked tiredly from up ahead.

“How’d you know we’re going the right way?” Buffy wanted to know.

“By the sun,” Norma replied simply.

Stopping for a moment, Buffy looked up at the sky, she saw nothing but low grey clouds, if her life had depended on it she couldn’t have told you where the sun was.

0=0=0=0

After walking for what felt like ages, they heard the sound of church bells.

“Must be Sunday,” Norma commented, “come on, let’s see what we can find.”

“You’re not going to rob a church, are you?” Buffy asked as she trotted along behind Norma.

“Of course I’m not, you nerk,” Norma sounded a little ‘snappy’, Buffy put it down to lack of sleep, “it’s just you sometimes find they’ve left things lying around…for the poor and that.”

“The poor?” Buffy replied doubtfully as they took cover behind a wall.

“Well,” Norma turned and grinned at Buffy, “you gotta admit we’re poor.”

“‘Spose,” Buffy agreed reluctantly.

“Like look at that,” Norma pointed over the wall to where the vicar or someone had left a bicycle, “see what I mean,” Norma started to scramble over the wall, “someone’s left a bike out for any poor cyclists who might happen by!”

By the time, Norma had struggled over the wall; Buffy was waiting for her on the other side.

“Well,” Norma gasped breathing heavily, “you could have given your old mate a hand…”

“Come on,” Buffy walked towards the bike having resigned herself to becoming a bicycle thief; like people said, prison changed you.

Five minutes later they were bowling along the country lane away from the church at a fair lick. Peddling away Buffy propelled the bike along the road as Norma hung on to her waist for grim life as she balanced precariously on the little luggage wrack behind the saddle. They’d not been going very long when Buffy brought them to a slow halt; ahead of them stood a village and she could see people moving around.

“Now what?” Buffy asked as she looked down into the village, “I just knew this was too good to last.”

“Not to worry,” Norma climbed from her perch, “come on, off the bike I’ve got an idea.”

A couple of minutes later, Buffy found herself trotting along the road with Norma riding the bike just behind her. They came around a corner and as they entered the village they saw a farmer leaning on a gate watching them come down the road.

“Come on, come on,” Norma called, “don’t flag! Jab! Jab!”

Buffy punched the air in front of her like she’d been told to do.

“It’s the big fight next week, sir!” Norma called pleasantly to the farmer as she and Buffy went by.

The farmer watched silently as the two women disappeared down the road towards the centre of the village; his wife came out to join him.

“Who was that, dear?” she asked as Norma and Buffy’s figures got smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Oh,” sighed the farmer, “just a couple of escaped convicts.”

0=0=0=0

“Oh, Norma leave the bell alone,” Buffy called.

Having made good progress the two women had decided to abandon the bike in a hedge, there were more cars and people about now and they’d both thought it too risky to stay on the road.

“I suppose you’re right,” Norma stopped trying to remove the bell from the bicycle, she turned to follow Buffy across a field, “Old habits die hard,” she called as she paused for a moment; pulling the bicycle pump out of her trouser pocket, she threw it back towards where the bike lay, “Might as well leave that too!”

They walked and ran across several more fields still not meeting any one. By now the sun was a silvery ball in the sky as it tried to break though the clouds, Buffy guessed that it must be near midday.

“You just won’t admit it, will you?” she called to Norma as they came up to yet another field boundary, “We’re lost! If we’re not careful we’re going to have to stay another night in the open. The longer we’re away the harder it’ll be to explain our absence from nick.”

“Yeah, I know,” Norma rested her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath, “I’m sure we’re going in the right direction.”

“You okay?” Buffy rested a concerned hand on Norma’s back, “We can rest if you want.”

“Shhh!” Norma froze and looked around her eyes darting from side to side.

“What’s wrong?” Buffy was at her side ready to fight if needs be.

“I heard something,” Norma waved her arm for Buffy to follow her, “come on, this way and be quiet.”

A twig broke noisily under Buffy’s foot, “Sorry,” she said guiltily.

“Thank-you, Hiawatha!” Norma rolled her eyes heavenwards.

“Hiawatha didn’t wear football boots, did she?” Buffy shot back.

“Shh!” Norma knelt down behind a bush, “Quiet!”

“What is it?” Buffy asked as Norma and herself peered over the top of the bush. “I don’t believe it,” Buffy whispered in wonder, “You crafty old sod…”

“Less of the old, if you don’t mind,” Norma sank down behind the bush again, “told you, your clever and not so old Aunty Norma would see you right!”

Looking around the bush, Buffy could see a couple of police cars and several police officers walking around the wood. More importantly she could see the coach that Oaksey and themselves had made their escape in. Somehow, Norma had managed to navigate them back to where they’d started from.

“Cops,” Norma breathed quietly.

“Copse, like a wooded glade?” Buffy asked lightly.

“Yeah,” Norma nodded her head, “a copse crawlin’ with naffin’ cops!”

“Hey what’s this?” Buffy pointed to where a green Ford Transit minibus pulled into the glade or copse and stopped; moments later out stepped Miss Mackay and two other prison officers.

“That, my girl,” Norma announced, “is out ticket home!”

0=0=0=0

“Mackay, Slade Prison,” Mackay announced as she climbed out of the van and looked at the policeman in charge, “any developments, sergeant?”

“No,” the police sergeant didn’t sound happy, “they’ll be long gone b’now,” He turned away from Mackay and headed towards his car, “Come on lads,” he called to his fellow officers, “let’s away to our dinners.”

“What about the coach?” Mackay called to the sergeant’s retreating back.

“It’s all yours,” the sergeant paused as he stood by his car, “we’ve finished with it.”

The sergeant climbed into his car and drove off down the lane his siren blaring and lights flashing for no reason that Mackay could see.

“Won’t sell many ice creams driving at that speed,” observed one of Mackay’s officers once the police car had receded into the distance far enough so you could hear yourself think.

“Collins, you take the van back to Slade,” Mackay started to get things organised, “I’ll drive the coach with Miss Miller.”

The two officers glanced at each other and shrugged.

“Erm…” began Miller as they approached the coach, “Are you sure you can drive this thing, ma’am?”

“Of course I can,” Mackay paused to smile confidently at Miller, “it can’t be any more difficult that an army three tonner.”

Climbing aboard the coach, Mackay sat in the driver’s seat and looked down at all the controls, there seemed to be an awful lot more of them than there were on an army truck. Undaunted, Miss Mackay pressed buttons until she had the engine running and the handbrake off; she smiled confidently down to where Miller stood by the open passenger door.

“Guide me out of here would you please, Miss Miller?” Mackay asked having worked out which were forward and which were reverse gears.

As the bus was manoeuvred to get it back on the track and pointed in the right direction. Two sneaky figures ran from the cover of the underbrush on the far side of the coach. Undetected by either Miss Mackay or Miss Miller (who were far too busy trying to point the bus in the right direction) the two figures ran up to the coach, opened the hatch to the cargo compartment and climbed inside.

0=0=0=0

It was dark by the time the coach re-entered Slade Prison, it was driven through the gates behind the sports fields and parked next to the changing rooms across from the football pitch. Switching off the engine Mackay, climbed from the driver’s seat and down the steps to stand on the road. They’d have been back earlier if Miller hadn’t got them lost. Walking towards the gate to the prison proper, Mackay glanced at Miller who was walking beside her.

“We’ll see about getting the coach back to its owners tomorrow,” she announced tiredly, “I for one am going to have a wee dram and then I’m away back home to my husband.”

The two prison officers waited for the small door in the gate to be opened, they climbed through and the coach was left behind in the dark. All was quiet for a minute or two the only sound being the hooting of a distant owl. Slowly the hatch to the luggage compartment opened giving a small squeak like the lid of the Mummy’s tomb as it did so. Pausing for a moment, Norma and Buffy peered out into the night, after deciding that the coast was clear they climbed out of the compartment and onto the road. Running around the coach they hid in the shadows next to the changing rooms.

“It’s totally like the wooden horse,” Buffy said quietly.

“What wooden horse?” Norma whispered back giving her companion a slightly odd look.

“That’s how the Greeks got into Troy and beat the Trojans,” Buffy explained.

“Could you save the history lessons for when we get back to our ‘flowery dell’?” Norma replied in a whisper.

“How are you going to manage that?” Buffy wanted to know; okay they were back on prison grounds but they were a long way from being properly ‘inside’.

“Have I ever let you down?” Norma said slightly hurt that Buffy didn’t think she could think of something simple like, how to break back into one of Her Majesty’s prisons.

“No,” Buffy decided that Norma probably had some really clever plan to get them back to their cosy little cell.

“Well,” Norma sighed, the truth was she was right out of ideas, “I might now…follow me.”

Sneaking around the changing rooms, Buffy and Norma crept from one shadow to the next. After several minutes of slipping silently between out-buildings, Norma suddenly realised where they were.

“The Admin Block!” a little hope entered her voice.

“How does that help?” Buffy wanted to know.

“Look,” Norma whispered urgently, “this is the back of the Admin Block; the front is in the prison proper.”

“You’re thinking we can sneak through the building and into prison?” Buffy asked, “I gotta say its not one of your better plans Norma.”

“No I wasn’t thinking that,” Norma claimed, in reality she had been but Buffy saying that she didn’t think it would work had made her think of something else. “If I remember rightly,” Norma tip-toed across a gravel courtyard to stand above a pair of steel doors set into the ground, “Give us a hand,” Norma strained at the shutters trying to open them, “we need to get in here,” the hatch wouldn’t budge, “its no use,” Norma gave up just as Buffy joined her, “they won’t move.”

“Hold on,” Buffy reached down, took hold of one of the handles and pulled; the hatch opened with only a quiet squeak of protest, “there you go,” Buffy smiled at her friend.

Reaching out, Norma felt Buffy’s arm muscles and shrugged. “No wonder you’re not afraid of Groutie; come on, down here!”

Quickly and quietly, Buffy and Norma disappeared into the cellar beneath the courtyard closing the shutters behind them.

0=0=0=0

“But its half-past-nine,” Mackay explained as she lead the way down into the Prison Officers Club, “the bar should be open.”

Having finished writing her reports, Miss Mackay had gone to the club to ‘take a wee dram’ before going home and found the place in darkness. Searching out Miss Barrowclough (as usual she was in no hurry to go home) who was holding the keys to the bar, she’d persuaded her to open up and come and have a quick drink, Barrowclough had readily agreed.

“Under the circumstances I don’t suppose, Chalky thought it wise,” Miss Barrowclough referred to the man who ran the club and who’d gone home ages ago.

“Well,” Mackay switched on the lights and headed for the back of the bar, “under the circumstances I need a drink before I go home more than most nights,” softening slightly and being aware of Miss Barrowclough’s home situation Mackay asked, “what’ll it be Henrietta?”

“Some thing to keep out the cold would be nice,” Barrowclough suggested.

“Whiskey it is then,” pouring a good measure for herself and Barrowclough, Mackay passed a glass to her colleague.

“You know,” Barrowclough made herself comfortable on one of the bar stools, “I’m surprised at Fletcher and Summers going over the wall like that…surprised and disappointed.”

“Aye,” agreed Mackay sadly, “I actually thought Summers had more sense than that and she seemed to be a good influence on Fletcher,” Mackay sighed and took a sip of her whiskey, “Just goes to show you can’t trust any of them.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Miss Barrowclough agreed sadly as she sipped her drink.

“Help!”

Both officers froze in place and looked at each other.

“Was that you?” Mackay asked.

“No,” Barrowclough confirmed and pointed to the door to the store room behind the bar. “It came from in there.”

“Help!” It sounded more like a moan than a cry; Miss Mackay picked up the keys from the bar and turned towards the door as Miss Barrowclough rushed around the counter to stand behind her.

Slipping the key into the lock, Miss Mackay pushed open the door and switched on the light. There amongst the crates and bottles of the store room lay Fletcher and Summers. Fletcher was sitting on the floor with her back pressed against the wall, an opened bottle of whisky in her hand. Summers lay, apparently asleep, with her head resting in Fletcher’s lap, with what looked like a bar towel wrapped around her forehead like a bandage.

“Thank gawd, Miss Mackay!” Norma cried out as she took a swig from the bottle in her hand, “saved at last!”

“Where are we?” Buffy groaned dramatically, “Who is it?”

“Don’t worry Buffy,” Norma hugged Buffy protectively, “our ordeal is over!”

0=0=0=0

**Later the next day, Giles’ Office, Slayer Central.**

“So?” Dawn sat down in one of Giles’ visitor’s chairs and gazed across the wide expanse of his highly polished desk.

“It’s not good news I’m afraid Dawn,” Giles replied sadly; he sat in his high backed, black leather, managing director’s chair playing with the chain of his solid silver pocket watch.

“But, Kennedy and Rona captured him, and Willow questioned him,” Dawn said with increasing panic, “are you trying to tell me Willow couldn’t get him to talk?”

“On the contrary,” Giles slipped his watch back into the watch pocket of his perfectly tailored Savile Row suit. “Ethan told us everything we wanted to know…more in fact.”

“So why the long face, Giles?” Dawn wanted to know as deep suspicions started to bubble to the surface of her mind, “Tell me what he said.”

Hesitating for a moment Giles considered not telling Dawn everything, after all he wasn’t sure how she would react.

“It would appear, Dawn,” Giles began slowly, “that someone in the government; someone in the Home Office to be precise paid Ethan two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand pounds to ensure Buffy’s conviction on these trumped up charges.” 

“Two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand pounds!?” Gasped Dawn.

“Yes I know it’s disgusting, isn’t it?” Giles paused and shook his head sadly, “Tax payers money too, I don’t suppose the magical supplies cost Ethan more than fifty quid either.”

“What?” Dawn frowned at Giles for a moment.

“What?” Giles asked absently, “Ah! Yes, where was I?” Giles got his mind back on track, “I was stupid not to see it before, he’d need access to the courtroom and the police to make this work. He’d have needed official help to get in and plant his charms and so on.”

“So what does all this mean?” Dawn asked numbly, “Is the government out to get us all starting with Buffy?”

“I don’t think so,” Giles shifted in his chair making the leather creak a little, “from what Ethan has told us the original plan was to have Buffy arrested, charged and put on trail, just to see how the rest of the organisation would react. After a couple of months, as long as we hadn’t done anything illegal, Buffy would be released with a heart felt apology and a nice fat compensation cheque…more tax payer’s money no doubt.”

“But,” Dawn looked desperately at Giles hoping he’d tell her that Buffy would soon be free, “it’s been more than a couple of months Giles.”

“It seems,” Giles sighed as he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers, “that somewhere along the line someone changed their mind and decided to keep Buffy imprisoned for some reason.”

“But now we have Ethan we can reverse the spells, right?” Dawn asked hopefully.

“Oh yes, Willow’s working on that as we speak,” Giles nodded his head slowly.

“So once the spells are removed it’ll be easy to get Buffy home,” Dawn suggested.

“To a degree,” Giles held up his hand to forestall Dawn’s next outburst, “once the spells have been reversed it’ll certainly be easier to get Buffy back, but now,” Giles shrugged his shoulders helplessly, “we’ll be up against the government or at least a section of it, This won’t be easy Dawn its going to take time.”

“How long?” Dawn demanded.

“At least a year,” Giles admitted, “perhaps longer.”

“And what do we do with Ethan in the meantime?” Dawn’s jaw set as she spoke and the rage built up inside her, “You’re not going to let him go, are you?”

“Certainly not,” Giles frowned, “Willow and myself agreed on a plan and I hope you’ll help.”

“Go on,” Dawn replied shortly, if Giles’ plan didn’t involve red hot pokers she was going to be very annoyed.

“We decided that until Buffy is released,” Giles explained, “we’d keep Ethan locked up in conditions that mirror those under which Buffy is being held as closely as we can manage,” Giles paused for a moment, “We both thought it appropriate that you be in charge of his imprisonment; do you think you can do that?”

“Oh yes,” a smile spread slowly across Dawn’s face as she thought about Giles’ suggestion, “I think I can manage that.”

0=0=0=0

**Buffy and Norma’s Cell, ‘B’ Wing, Slade Prison.**

Sitting propped up on her pillows, Buffy looked up from her bunk as Norma walked back into their cell, it was nearly twenty-four hours since their ‘rescue’ from the store room of the prison officer’s club. The Governor had accepted their story of Oaks forcing them into the cellar and locking them in. As a result they’d not been punished and everything was slowly going back to how it had been before; Buffy glanced at Norma and sighed wistfully.

“Everybody’s been asking me what really happened,” Buffy said as Norma got down her sewing kit to darn a hole in her sock.

“Oh yeah?” Norma sat down and got out a needle and darning wool, she didn’t have much time it would soon be lights out.

“You’d be amazed at some of the theories,” Buffy shifted slightly so she could see Norma properly. “Of course you’re alright, this kinda thing just adds lustre to the ‘Fletcher Legend’,” Buffy pointed out, “The only woman to have broken out of and back into Slade.”

“What’s the matter with you?” Norma started to try and darn her sock, as usual she made a mess of it, she’d never been very good with a needle and thread.

“We’re still in this cell,” Buffy rolled off her bunk and went to sit next to Norma; she took the sock and needle from Norma’s hand and started to darn with quick, neat, stitches. “While Oaksey is out and free.”

“I shouldn’t worry about it, Buffy,” Norma sat back in her chair and watched Buffy’s high speed darning, “before too long she’ll be back.”

“Maybe not,” Buffy shrugged as she tied off the tread, “maybe she got out of the country.”

“She’ll hate it,” Norma said wisely as she accepted back her neatly darned sock from Buffy’s hand, “her sort always do…she won’t be able to sit in the sun for the rest of her life,” Norma tried to explain. “Eventually she’ll get to feeling homesick for Halifax or Huddersfield or wherever it is she comes from, she’ll miss kippers or custard or Coronation Street.”

“Maybe,” Buffy didn’t sound convinced, she was beginning to think she was a fool for not going with her sister when she’d had the chance.

“Look, Buffy,” Norma could almost see what was going through Buffy’s mind, “bide your time, I mean you’ll be out in three or four years, probably a lot less; and you won’t be looking over your shoulder or listening for every creak on the stairs then, will ya?”

“Yeah,” Buffy smiled at her friend and reached over to squeeze her hand, “I wasn’t thinking straight, all the fresh air must have gone to my head!”

“Stumm!” Norma warned as she glanced up to see Miss Mackay standing in the doorway of the cell. “Evening Miss Mackay!” Norma called out cheerily as the officer walked slowly into the cell.

“I won’t buy it Fletcher,” Mackay stared at Norma suspiciously.

“What’s that, Miss Mackay?” Norma replied as if she’d not a care in the world.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Mackay shifted her gaze to Buffy, “don’t you Summers?”

“Don’t know what you mean, Miss Mackay,” Buffy replied with all the innocence she could muster.

“The Governor may believe your story,” Mackay informed them, “but the Governor doesn’t walk these floors.”

Walking further into the cell, Mackay loomed over the two inmates.

“I was in the village today,” Mackay informed them, “there’s been some odd reports; a female boxer in shorts and her trainer, a vicar’s bicycle going missing, a farmer seeing two women running from his barn…oh yes.” Mackay paused to give Norma and Buffy a soul searching look, “Now I can’t prove you were out, but mark my words…” Mackay walked slowly back towards the door, “...my-day-will-come!”

0=0=0=0


	22. Chapter 22

23.

**Slade prison, early March, 2006.**

A Day in the Life of Buffy Anne Summers.

_“I read the news today, oh-boy…”_

As usual, the alarm clock didn’t get a chance to even *Ding!* once before Buffy’s hand shot from under her blankets and silenced it. Pushing back her bedding she shivered as the cold air touched her skin; it had been a bitterly cold winter and there wasn’t much in the way of heating in the cells so it was always pretty cold when she got out of bed. But winter was almost past, spring was on the way and very soon, she would be ‘celebrating’ the end of her first year inside.

Swinging her feet onto the cold floor, Buffy sat on her bunk in the dark and tried to wake up, in about fifteen minutes the screw would be along to let her out to go to the kitchen. Standing up she stretched and then walked over to the slop bucket and pulled down her panties; after squatting over the bucket to pee, next she went over to the wash stand and pored some water into the bowl. After a night of sitting in its jug in a cold cell the water was always freezing cold. Quickly washing her face and hands, Buffy dried herself off, she took off her pyjama jacket and her nipples went instantly hard as the cold air touched them.

Shivering she slipped on a t-shirt before putting on her cook’s whites, sitting down she took off the prison issue socks she’d worn in bed and slipped on a pair of good, warm woollen ones her sister had sent her. After putting on her shoes, Buffy took her hair net and pulled it over her head before turning and emptying her washing water into the slop bucket and pouring more water into her mug. Cleaning her teeth, she remembered how Norma had to slop out and clean up the cell all by herself because she would be working in the kitchen; Buffy always tried to make it up to her friend. A larger portion here, a little extra there. Rinsing out her mouth and spitting the water into the slop bucket, she was just in time to hear the alarm bell go off waking the rest of the inmates. Moments later the Judas Hole slid open and an eye looked in at her. Keys rattled in the door as the screw unlocked and pushed the door open.

“Good morning Miss Miller,” Buffy said pleasantly as she stepped out onto the landing.

“Mornin’ Summers,” the screw closed the door and relocked it.

“On nights again?” Buffy observed.

“Yeah,” the prison officer yawned before looking down at Buffy, “come on Summers, you know the way, get a move on.”

Walking along the landing, Buffy turned and made her way down the stairs to the ground floor and over to the gate that led out of the wing. Pausing at the gate, Buffy waited for the screw to unlock and let her out.

“Morning, Miss,” Buffy greeted the screw, the woman was new and Buffy didn’t know her name yet.

“Summers, isn’t it?” the screw asked pleasantly enough.

“Yes Miss,” Buffy stepped through the gate and waited for the screw to lock up again.

“Alright then Summers,” the screw said after securing the gate, “off you go.”

“Thank-you Miss,” Buffy walked along the corridor towards the kitchen.

After going through three more gates, Buffy eventually got to the kitchens, walking into the kitchen proper she saw that Janet was already there and making the tea for the rest of the kitchen staff.

“Morning, Janet,” Buffy walked over to the girl and as no one else was about, kissed her on the cheek.

“Morning, Buffy,” replied the Scots girl returning Buffy’s kiss.

Standing together drinking their tea, Buffy and Janet waited for the rest of the kitchen staff to turn up. After everyone had arrived, drunk their tea and exchanged the usual morning courtesies, Buffy walked over to the kitchen office and knocked on the door.

“Come!” Miss Appleton’s called from inside; opening the door, Buffy walked in.

“Morning, Miss Appleton how are you today?” Buffy asked.

“Fine, thank-you,” Miss Appleton replied as she took off her uniform jacket and put on a white kitchen overall, “Yourself?”

“About the same,” Buffy explained, she was always amazed at how civil everyone was under the circumstances.

“Everyone in this morning?” Appleton buttoned up her white coat.

“Blake’s not in,” Buffy explained, “she’s seeing the MO later.”

“Not to worry,” Appleton took down a clip board and made a note, “we’ve got a new girl starting later, Nicholson,” the screw sighed, “bit of a tearaway. The Governor seems to think working in the kitchens might calm her down,” Buffy and the screw shared a look that spoke volumes about what they both thought about the governor’s ideas. “Kitchens is a privilege, a reward for good behaviour not a dumping ground…” Miss Appleton stopped herself before she said anything more, “Anyway, keep an eye on her for me would you Summers?”

“Sure thing,” Buffy nodded her head before prompting the prison officer, “Keys, Miss Appleton?”

“Oh-yes,” the screw reached for the keys and passed them to Buffy, “okay get on with it.”

Walking out into the corridor, Buffy stuck her head back into the kitchen and called to the inmates who were standing around doing nothing.

“Hey, guys,” she called, “need hand here.”

Getting everyone organised, Buffy watched as they took the breakfast supplies from the store to the kitchen; once that was done, she relocked the door and took the keys back to Miss Appleton. Today was ‘Fry-up’ day; one piece of rather fatty bacon, one Soya sausage, one fried egg, one piece of fried bread and a spoon full of baked beans. It didn’t sound like much until you multiplied it by five hundred when it became a lot. Then there was tea to be made for five hundred, one piece of fruit each and then if anyone was still hungry there was always bread, margarine and jam. The jam was always Plum and Apple jam…except once. Buffy always maintained that some one had screwed up and sent them raspberry by mistake. However, when that was gone it was back to Plum and Apple of which the best that could be said for it was that it was sweet. Some of the really old lags claimed that the jam dated back to the Great War and by the state of the five pound tins it came in, Buffy could believe them.

As usual and by some miracle, breakfast was out ready to be served up when the first prisoners turned up to be fed. Walking down the line of hot plates, Buffy watched as her kitchen girls doled out the food. Seeing Norma, Buffy wandered over to her as she started down the line food tray in hand.

“Hi Norma,” Buffy picked up a fish slice and slipped an additional fried egg onto Norma’s scratched metal tray.

“Mornin’ Buffy,” Norma said as she nodded her head in thanks.

After breakfast and while her minions were doing the washing up, Buffy went over to Miss Appleton’s office. Standing on the threshold, she looked in to see Miss Appleton sitting at her desk sipping a cup of tea, while a girl in a spotlessly clean, new, set of kitchen whites slouched in the corner.

“Come in Summers,” the screw waved Buffy into the office, “this is Nicholson,” she gestured at the girl who turned to glare sullenly at her, “she’s the one I told you about.”

“Yes, Miss Appleton,” Buffy nodded keeping her voice neutral.

“So,” Miss Appleton put down her tea cup, “what culinary delights do you have planned for us today?”

“I thought curry, Miss Appleton.” Curry was an easy meal to make, after the more complicated ‘fry-up’ of the morning it wouldn’t overwork her crew and they’d have time to skive off and play cards or something.

“Good,” Miss Appleton nodded her head in approval, she knew exactly what Buffy was thinking, “There’s some cooking apples in the cold store they came in yesterday we better use them up soon.”

“Apple crumble and custard?” suggested Buffy.

“My thinking precisely,” agreed Miss Appleton, “off you go then and don’t forget ‘er,” the screw jerked her head at Nicholson, before passing the cold store keys to Buffy.

“Follow me,” Buffy told the girl who followed her reluctantly out into the corridor where Buffy placed her hand on the girls chest and brought her to a halt. “Listen up,” she told the girl in a low whisper, “I’m Buffy Anne Summers I’m the Kitchen Supervisor here, you get to call me ‘Summers’, one day if you’re good enough I might let you call me ‘Buffy-Anne’ and if I really get to like you, ‘Buffy’ okay?”

“Whatever,” sulked the girl.

“Oh what infectious enthusiasm...” Buffy smiled insincerely, “...until that day, you have one rule to remember, do you think you can manage that?”

The girl pursed her lips and tried to ignore Buffy.

“Well!?” Buffy said sharply pushing the girl violently against the wall.

“Hey!” Nicholson rubbed her shoulder where Buffy had pushed her, “Yank bitch, I’ll fuckin’ get you for that.”

“Ha!” Buffy laughed mirthlessly, “Many have tried, all have failed,” she informed the girl, “Now the one thing you have to remember is…you do what everyone else tells you to do. If you can manage that we’ll get along fine…oh and by the way,” Buffy pushed the girl against the wall again and held her there, “This is a zero-tolerance zone for racial slurs...understand?”

The girl nodded her head reluctantly.

“Okay then,” Buffy put Nicholson back down on her feet, “let’s go get them apples.”

Listening at her office door Miss Appleton smiled, “That’s my girl, Summers, don’t take any nonsense from that little slapper!” she said quietly before going to sit back down at her desk and got on with her paper work.

0=0=0=0

Glancing up at the kitchen clock, Buffy smiled everything was on track for dinner time. The curry bubbled away in its vats, the apple crumbles had been put in the oven and there was enough time for a quick cuppa before they needed to start cooking the rice and making the custard. Turning, Buffy started to spoon tea leaves into the big tea pot; she felt more than heard someone come up behind her.

“Buffy-Anne?” Buffy recognised the voice as belonging to Hobbs; a woman in her mid-thirties who’d been convicted of killing her abusive husband.

“Alice?” Buffy turned to face the worried looking woman; she always looked worried, she wasn’t really tough enough for prison life so the other girls in the kitchen tried to look out for her, “What’s up?”

“The new girl,” Hobbs glanced over to where Nicholson skulked in a corner where she thought no one would notice her.

“She been bullying you?” Buffy demanded, she didn’t like bullies.

“No,” Hobbs shook her head, “but there’s a knife missing and I think she took it.”

“Damn!” Buffy looked thin lipped from Hobbs to the slovenly girl in the corner and back again. “Thanks, I’ll deal with this while you make the tea.”

Making her way across the kitchen, Buffy gave Janet a silent signal that meant ‘there’s trouble, keep an eye out for screws’. Nodding her head in understanding, Janet wiped her hands on a towel as she walked over to another woman and whispered in her ear spreading the word.

“Okay Nicholson,” Buffy arrived in front of the girl, “as I was saying we have rules in here,” Buffy rested her hands on her hips as she looked up into the girl’s face, “one of the most important is, no one takes anything from the kitchen without my say so, and we particularly don’t take knives.”

“Don’t know what y’mean,” Nicholson tried to push past Buffy but was stopped dead in her tracks by a hand holding onto her arm, “Who died and made you Queen of the World, Bitch?”

“Looks like you’re going to be the first,” Buffy replied levelly, she held out her hand, “give me the knife now and I won’t report you to Miss Appleton. Attempted theft of a knife, that’s three days in solitary you’ll get to miss.”

Buffy could almost see Nicholson weighing up her chances as she stood there looking down at the shorter woman. It was no surprise to Buffy when Nicholson pulled the knife and tried to stab her in the stomach with it. Moving faster than the eye could follow, Buffy intercepted the girl’s thrust. Holding onto her wrist, she stopped the attack before it had really started and began to squeeze. Even though she could feel the bones grate together under her grasp, Buffy could see that Nicholson wasn’t going to drop the knife without more persuasion.

“Look, think about it,” Buffy could see the tears in the other girl’s eyes as she stubbornly held onto the knife, “think how much this hurts and I’m not even trying yet, do you really want me to crush every bone in your wrist for you?”

Finally, Nicholson let the knife fall to the floor.

“Good,” Buffy let go of the girl’s wrist, “now go and hold that under the cold water tap, it’ll stop it from swelling.”

After watching the girl go over to the sinks as she cradled her injured wrist in her hand, Buffy picked up the knife and put it on a working surface where it would be picked up and washed with all the other utensils. Turning away intending to go and enjoy her cup of tea, Buffy stopped dead in her tracks as Miss Appleton called out her name.

“Summers,” called the screw as another officer came into the kitchen, “the Governor wants to see you. Go with Miss Wright here will you?”

Not knowing what was going on, Buffy pulled off her hair net and threw it on a nearby table; she straightened out her whites and then went over and joined the screw sent to take her to the Governor. Walking along behind the officer, Buffy tried to work out why she’d been called for; she’d not done anything wrong that she could recall. No one in her extended family was ill, unless something had happened to Dawn or one of her friends.

“Excuse me Miss Wright,” Buffy asked the screw, she was from a different wing so Buffy didn’t know her very well, “Do you know what this is about?”

“They didn’t say,” replied Miss Wright shortly.

All too soon Buffy found herself being ushered into the Governor’s office, she’d never been there before; she saw Miss Mackay and Miss Barrowclough sanding on either side of the Governor who sat at her desk. At Buffy’s approach the governor stood up.

“Miss Summers,” the Governor gestured to a chair in front of her desk, “you may like to sit down, I’ve something I need to tell you.”

“Oh god!” Buffy’s heart started to beat wildly, no one called an inmate ‘Miss’ especially not the governor; they didn’t invite you to sit down either, “Its Dawn isn’t it,” Buffy held on to the back of the chair to steady herself, “something’s happened to my sister hasn’t it?”

Looking around the room Buffy half expected to see either Giles or Faith standing behind her.

“As far as I know,” a ghost of a smile played across the Governor’s face, “your sister is in perfect health.”

“Thank-god!” Buffy sighed with relief, “so what…?”

“Please sit down Miss Summers,” Mackay said gesturing to the seat; now Buffy was really worried, Miss Mackay had called her ‘Miss Summers’.

“I have some important news for you,” the governor picked up a sheet of paper from her desk and glanced at it. “About an hour ago I received a communication from the Home Secretary. It is my very great pleasure to inform you, Miss Summers that you have been granted a full Pardon.”

Buffy’s heart started to do back flips in her chest as the words washed over her.

“On re-examining the evidence concerning your case, the Court of Appeal has decided that there has been a serious and grave miscarriage of justice,” the governor explained, “and that you, Miss Summers, are completely innocent of the crimes for which you were convicted.”

“I need to sit down,” Buffy gasped just as she realised that she already was.

“Your criminal record will be expunged and you will walk from these walls without a stain on your character,” the Governor continued. “A full report of the Court’s findings will be printed in the newspapers in a few days and on a more practical level you will be receiving a visit from the Home Office’s legal department to discuss compensation.” The Governor looked down at Buffy, “It only remains for me to convey Her Majesty’s Government’s most heartfelt and sincere apologies for the time you’ve been forced to spend here at Slade Prison. I would also like to add my personal apologies and those of my staff for any distress that you might have suffered.”

The Governor stood and waited for Buffy to say something, when she didn’t the governor fidgeted slightly and turned to look at Mackay. Stepping forward Mackay addressed Buffy.

“Miss Summers, if you’d like to come with me,” she said slowly, “I’ll take you to a telephone where you can phone your family and then we can start your discharge paperwork…”

“NO!” Buffy jumped up from her seat.

“NO!?” Chorused the other occupants in the room.

“No!” Buffy said breathlessly, this couldn’t be happening, “I can’t go, not yet…I-I’ve still got dinner to finish and tea and super to organise and-and…”

“You don’t have to do that anymore, Miss Summers,” the Governor smiled, “you’re a free woman.”

“But-but,” Buffy stammered, “I don’t want to be! At least not yet.”

“I’m sorry I don’t understand,” the Governor frowned, in all her years in the prison service she’d never known a prisoner refuse to be released.

“Look,” Buffy tried to calm her rapidly beating heart, “I can’t just go without saying goodbye to all my friends…it-it wouldn’t be right.” Buffy looked from one astonished face to another, “Look I’m a free woman right?”

Three heads nodded in unison.

“That means I get to make choices for _me_ , right?”

Again everybody nodded.

“So,” Buffy paused, “can’t we do the paperwork tomorrow and let me stay one more night so I can say goodbye to everyone…I’ll even go back to being a prisoner ‘til its time for me to go…please?”

“This is most irregular,” muttered the governor as Miss Mackay whispered in her ear, the Governor looked at the Senior Officer, “If you think you can manage that, Miss Mackay?” The Scots officer nodded her head. “Well if you’re happy with that, I suppose we’ll manage.” The Governor looked back at Buffy, “Miss Mackay says she can arrange something…but if there’s any trouble she’s to pull you out of the wing immediately…now do you want to phone your sister?”

0=0=0=0

Getting back to the kitchen, Buffy found everyone waiting for her.

“My,” she smiled uncertainly, “news does travel fast in nick…okay,” Buffy took a deep breath, “but dinner won’t cook itself; is the rice on?”

“Aye it is, Buffy,” Janet called.

“Has the custard been made?” Buffy wanted to know.

“That it has,” replied Hobbs with a smile.

“Okay then,” Buffy walked over to check that the custard hadn’t grown a thick skin in her absence, “I’m still in charge here, so let’s get working!”

After dinner, and after the kitchen staff had eaten but before they’d started on the clean up; Miss Appleton called Buffy into her office.

“Congratulations, Summers,” Appleton looked up at the young woman standing next to her desk, “I’ll be sorry to see you go, you’re the best supervisor I’ve had in years.”

“Thank-you, Miss Appleton,” Buffy thought she might as well suggest something, she had nothing to lose, “If I might suggest you try out McLaren as my replacement.”

“Hmmm,” Appleton thought about this for a moment, “she’s a little young but I’ll think about it. Now before you finish I wonder if you could do one more little job for me.”

“Sure,” Buffy shrugged, “why not?”

“Could you do a stock check of the tin store for me?” Miss Appleton handed Buffy the keys, “shouldn’t take you more than an hour…perhaps you’d like to take McLaren along to give you a hand?”

“Okay,” Again Buffy shrugged thinking that Miss Appleton just wanted her out of the way for a while.”

“Get along with you then,” Appleton gave her a half smile, “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

Leaving the office, Buffy stuck her head around the door to the kitchen and called Janet over.

“Come on, Appleton wants me to do a ‘tin check’,” Buffy started to unlock the door to the store, “I don’t know why, we only did one the other day.”

“Aye,” Janet agreed, “but ye ken what screws are like...Miss Appleton, says we hae got an hoor tae say cheerio,” Janet was already unbuttoning her dress, “Lit’s nae waste onie ay it…”

0=0=0=0


	23. Chapter 23

24.

**Inside and Out.**

_“Yes it's the same old story  
They say you're free, but don't worry  
What they said's not so  
They'll never let you go!"_

_Never a word could be heard  
Not even the sound of a bird  
Singing it over again, telling a different story  
Never the same as before  
See the summer going out by the door  
And now that you've paid for those lies  
Get another disguise._

Genesis, ‘Inside and Out’.

**Slade Prison.**

Walking up to Groutie’s cell door, Buffy didn’t need to tell Samson to get out of her way; she stood to one side without a word. Crossing the threshold into the cell, Buffy was once again impressed by the lifestyle of the demon.

“‘Ello, Slayer,” Groutie got up out of her armchair where she’d been sitting; Buffy could tell she was ready to fight, “I ‘ear you’re out of ‘ere tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buffy agreed as she looked around the cell at all the nice things that Groutie had surrounded herself with, “don’t worry, I’ve not come here to kill you…”

The demon breathed an audible sigh of relief and relaxed.

“…but I have come here to warn you,” Buffy continued as she picked up a small china figurine and examined it closely. “I expect you know I could have been out of this place in an instant if I’d wanted.”

“It ‘ad crossed my mind,” Groutie admitted, “I often wondered why you didn’t.”

“Well,” Buffy smiled coldly, “that’s the difference between us ‘white hats’ and your kind.”

“Accepted,” Groutie said with a shrug.

“Well, what I’ve come to tell you is,” Buffy put down the figurine, “that if I could have got out any time I wanted it stands to reason that I can get back in just as easily.”

“I think I understand you,” Groutie nodded her head.

“I’ll tell you how it’ll be,” Buffy was all business now, “I’m going to be keeping in touch with Norma once I’m gone. One word…one hint from her that things aren’t as they should be and I’ll be back.” Buffy stepped towards the demon threateningly, “Then what I do to you the screws will never be able to explain, understand?”

“Don’t worry, Slayer,” Groutie held her ground in the face of Buffy’s threats, “you’ve no need to concern yourself on my account.”

“What?” Buffy asked in disbelief, “You’re going to go straight or something?”

“Nah,” Groutie smiled, “early release…I’ve served more than two thirds of me sentence and I’m eligible. I’ll be out in two or three months, I won’t want to be putting that at risk, will I?”

“No,” Buffy admitted as she turned towards the door, “I don’t suppose you would.”

“This place has made you hard, Buffy Summers…scared your soul as it were,” Groutie smiled evilly as Buffy hesitated in the doorway. “They might tell your free…not a stain on your character, but what they says not so, this place will never let you go.”

“Whatever,” with a dismissive wave, Buffy walked out of the cell and back towards her own for what she suspected would be the last time.

0=0=0=0

“Been saying your farewells to Groutie then?” Norma asked as Buffy walked back into their cell.

“Yeah,” Buffy sat down at the table and looked up at her friend who was, as usual, lying on her bunk reading the newspaper. “Something like that.”

“Y’know you’re in the paper here,” Norma got up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, “photograph and everything.”

“That was quick,” Buffy got up to take a look, “the Governor said it wouldn’t be in the papers until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Norma began to explain, “this isn’t about your release this is sort of a background story.”

“Oh,” Buffy nodded her head and then looked up at the woman she’d grown so fond of, “You sure you don’t want me to come and visit?”

“Best not to, luv,” Norma said quietly as she put down her paper, “best if you never came back here again.”

“Why?” Buffy wanted to know.

“You’re not like the rest of us nerks in here,” Norma explained, “you’re special…shiny almost, not like us. Best if you never come back, you’ll have enough problems readjusting to the outside world without coming back here every few months.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Buffy sank down to sit on her own bed.

“Prison changes you Buffy,” Norma said wisely, “you’ve learnt to threaten, bribe, blackmail, you don’t think twice about hurting someone if you think its necessary you’ve turned into a hard woman…you’re not that innocent girl that came in here a year ago. I mean look what you did to that Nicholson girl today.”

“She’ll recover,” Buffy pointed out without a trace of remorse, “and I doubt she’ll try to steal a knife again.”

“There you are, you see,” Norma jumped down from her bunk, “the old Buffy Summers wouldn’t have done or said that…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Buffy demanded.

“Makes you sound like some sort of gangster, don’t it?” Norma pointed out, “No it’s bad enough what this place has turned you into without you coming back and getting re-infected.”

“Yeah I suppose you’re right,” Buffy thought on what Norma had said for a moment, “I’m really going to miss you Norma Fletcher.

“I’ll miss you too,” Norma turned away from Buffy and wiped at the tear that rolled down her face, the truth was Buffy had changed her too, for the better, “I’ll also miss the way you darned my socks…I’ll have to find some other nerk to do ‘em now.”

“I’ll write,” Buffy promised as she stood up to hug her old friend.

“That’ll be nice,” Norma replied softly as she returned Buffy’s embrace, “and if you could see y’way clear to sending the occasional box of Liquorish Allsorts that would be nice too.”

“Okay,” Buffy agreed, her voice muffled due to her having her head buried against Norma’s neck.

The bell for the end of ‘Free Association’ rang warning the inmates that it was time to go back to their cells and get ready for bed.

“Come on,” Norma gently pulled Buffy’s arms from around her neck, “your last chance to slop out.”

“Gee,” Buffy smiled without any great enthusiasm, “thanks.”

0=0=0=0

**Prison Officers Club, Slade Prison.**

Sitting at a table in the almost deserted club, Mackay and Barrowclough shared a quiet drink before going home; Mackay would go home to a loving husband and some really good sex. The only thing Barrowclough would go home to was an empty house and the knowledge that her husband was out somewhere having a good time with another woman.

“Well,” Mackay sighed as she put down her glass, “I’m a big enough woman to admit it, Henrietta, you were right and I was wrong.”

“Summers you mean?” Henrietta sipped her white wine and shook her head, “No, you were right, Helen you always are, the only difference was as it turned out Summers was innocent after all.”

“There,” Helen tried to cheer up the woman she’d grown to quite like, “but you saw it and I didn’t.”

“Maybe in her case I was right,” Henrietta looked at her glass not really seeing it, “but I see the same thing in all the others,” Henrietta glanced up at the woman across the table from her, “Look its no use fooling ourselves any more, I’m no use here, I’m putting in for a transfer to an open prison or I’m going to leave the service, I’ve not quite made up my mind.”

“No!” Helen Mackay said firmly, “No Henrietta that is not going to happen,” she struggled with what she wanted to say, “Without you Slade Prison would be a worse place,” Helen explained, “you bring a spark of humanity to an otherwise inhuman situation, you’ve got to stay…for me…please.”

“Well…” Henrietta was completely surprised by her fellow officer’s outburst.

“Look,” Helen leaned towards Henrietta, “I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll try to be a little more…how shall we say, ‘forgiving’ towards the prisoners if you try to be a little less…”

“Gullible?” Henrietta suggested.

“Aye,” Helen sat back and raised her glass to her lips, “that would be it.”

“We’ll see,” Henrietta looked at her glass again, “It’s Summers I feel sorry for, y’know…”

“Aye,” Helen agreed with a nod of her head, “she’ll find it hard to adjust,” Helen sighed sadly, “poor wee lassie.”

0=0=0=0

Free Buffy Summers Day.

**Slayer Central, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.**

“I say, Kennedy!” Giles called down the corridor when he saw the young woman in question, “Could I have a word?”

“What can I do for you Mr Giles?” Kennedy turned and walked towards the old watcher.

“I was wondering,” Giles wished more of the slayers were like Kennedy, she was so polite and respectful it made an old watcher’s heart ache for the ‘good old days’, “I take it you won’t be going with Willow and the others to pick Buffy up?”

“No,” Kennedy smiled as she shook her head, “I’ll go to the ‘Welcome Back’ party whatever my personal feelings may be.”

“Yes, quite so,” Giles looked away to hide the smile that crossed his face; Buffy and Kennedy’s ‘relationship’ had never been exactly close, “well, in that case I wonder if you’ll do a little job for me?”

“Sure, why not?” Kennedy smiled as she waited to find out what Giles wanted her to do.

“Take this,” Giles handed her a thick brown envelope, “it contains Ethan’s passport, a hundred dollars and an air ticket back to the States, we’ve decided to let him go now Buffy’s free.”

“Oh!” Kennedy said in surprise, she didn’t know if she approved.

“Could you take him to the airport and make sure he gets on his flight?” Giles asked, “Perhaps you could explain to him how unhealthy it would be for him to ever come back?”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Kennedy smiled as an alternate plan started to form in her mind, “why not?”

“Thank-you, Kennedy,” Giles smiled as he started to turn away, “you’re a treasure.”

“So people tell me,” Kennedy said quietly as she watched Giles hurry down the corridor; what was it about father figures that prevented her from disobeying them? “Probably something to do with my slayer training,” she told herself.

0=0=0=0

After collecting a few things, Kennedy drove her car over to the block where Rayne was being kept in conditions as similar as they could arrange to the ones Buffy was being held in. Climbing out of the car she went around and got something out of the boot before going into the block and marching down the long deserted corridor towards Ethan’s cell.

“Hi,” Kennedy presented herself to the slayer on guard duty outside the cell, “I’m taking Rayne away, we’re releasing him before Buffy gets back.”

“Thank god for that!” the slayer closed her magazine and stood up, “This has to be the most boring duty in the world.”

“I can imagine,” Kennedy smiled, “now give me the keys and go and get ready for the party…its bound to be a good one!”

“Thanks!” the young slayer eagerly handed over the keys and rushed away to help set up the party being thrown in Buffy’s honour.

Watching the girl leave, Kennedy waited a few minutes before unlocking the cell. This block was a little isolated from the rest of the camp, which was why it had been chosen as Ethan’s place of imprisonment. Coincidentally it also meant no one would be around to see what Kennedy was doing.

“STAND UP!” Kennedy barked as she burst into the cell; Ethan jumped up from his bed, he’d learnt to do whatever a slayer told him and do it quickly.

“HANDS BEHIND YOU BACK!” Kennedy strode across the little cell and secured Ethan’s wrists with a pair of handcuffs; next she pulled a black cloth bag over his head so he couldn’t see where she was taking him.

“What…” Ethan was starting to panic, nothing like this had happened to him before, “Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry,” the tone in Kennedy’s voice suggested that worry was the one thing Ethan should do, “we’re going to set you free. Buffy’s been released today so we’ve no more use for you…come on,” Kennedy started to drag him towards the door by the collar of his orange coverall, “MOVE!”

Pausing at the door of the block, Kennedy checked to see if the coast was clear, as far as she could tell it was. Quickly she bundled Ethan from the block and over to her car where she forced him into the boot. Closing the lid, she looked around again to make sure she wasn’t being watched. Satisfied that no one had seen her she walked around to the driver’s door, climbed in and started the engine before driving off and heading for the moors rather than the airport.

0=0=0=0

Having found the spot several months earlier while she’d been chasing a vamp with a Wuthering Heights fixation, Kennedy had filed its location away for future use. It was a lonely place, an old stone quarry high up on the moors. The hole left by the excavation was deep and full of dark, peaty, brown, water that had run off the moors and filled the quarry to the brim. There was only a narrow track leading to the site infrequently used by the local farmers. No one came here to swim or have picnics; no one even fished here as there were no fish in the deep, dark, cold waters. Kennedy suspected that she was one of a very few people who even knew of the quarry’s existence.

Stopping the car, Kennedy climbed out before reaching back inside and picking up her shoulder bag. Putting the strap of her bag across her shoulder she patted the heavy object that bumped against her hip before walking around to the boot. Looking around, it was always wise to check no one was watching even out here; her sharp slayer eyes picked out only a few sheep in a far away meadow. Opening the lid of the boot, she reached in and dragged Ethan out onto the track way.

“What are you doing?” Ethan’s muffled voice came to her ears, “Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry Ethan,” Kennedy made her voice sound light and cheerful as she dragged him towards the edge of the promontory overlooking the brooding pool, “you’ll be free in just a few more minutes.”

Positioning her prisoner a few yards away from the edge, she didn’t want him to fall in by accident; she wanted to say a few things first just to get them off her chest. Pulling the hood from Ethan’s head, Kennedy stepped back and watched as he looked around with confused eyes, she smiled as she saw his confusion turn to fear.

“Where am I,” Ethan demanded, “what are you doing?”

“Oh,” Kennedy smiled as her hand went into her bag, “this is just a nice _lonely_ , little spot up on the moors. I thought I might bring Willow up here for a picnic when the weather warms up. You know; a little outdoor loving just to spice up a relationship…” Kennedy paused in thought for a moment, “…or maybe you don’t.”

Ethan looked around and gasped when he saw the pool for the first time, he started to get an inkling of what was going to happen to him.

“You-you can’t kill me,” Ethan smiled nervously, “you’re a slayer you can’t kill humans…it’s a rule.”

“Sorry, that’s more of a guideline,” Kennedy pulled an automatic pistol from her bag, “I might be a slayer but I’m also my father’s daughter and,” she smiled sweetly at the frightened man before her, “I’m not so bothered by that annoying not killing humans thing, you know what I mean?” Pulling out a suppressor she started to screw it into the barrel of her pistol, noticing the look on Ethan’s face, Kennedy explained, “This,” she held up the gun and suppressor, “don’t want to make too much noise there’s some rare birds nesting near here I wouldn’t want to frighten them…Willow would really like it up here, don’t you think? Just her sort of place, let her commune with nature, that sort of thing.”

“You’re insane,” Ethan snapped angrily.

“Not the clever thing to say, Ethan,” Kennedy lowered the pistol so it rested against her leg, “I mean, annoying the mad woman with the gun?” she frowned a little, “Perhaps I am a little insane, it might explain why I didn’t complain too much when Daddy asked me to use my slayer skills to ‘whack’ a couple of business rivals; but enough of me, what about you?”

“Look,” Ethan tried to reason with his executioner, “I was only doing what I was asked to do, it’s the people who paid the bills, they’re the ones you should be after, not me!”

“I vas only obeying orders,” Kennedy said in a fake German accent. “Don’t worry, their time will come; you won’t be alone down there for too long. Now me, I’m not obeying anyone’s orders. I thought this up all on my lonesome.”

“You are,” Ethan shook his head in despair, “you’re a complete looney!”

“Maybe so,” Kennedy brought the gun up and Ethan took an involuntary step backwards his eyes wide with fear. “See, Ethan you’re not even properly evil. You do things just because you think it’s funny or because someone pays you. You never think of the consequences…until now of course!” Kennedy laughed lightly before her face became still and her eyes hard.

“That band candy thing, Ethan, what about Halloween? How many people died because of those little jokes, eh?” Kennedy snapped, “Did you think it was funny? And what about turning poor Mr Giles into a demon and nearly getting him killed?” Turning on a friend was the worst crime Kennedy could imagine, “And you’d called yourself his friend?” Kennedy shook her head in a mixture of sorrow and disgust, “And what you did to Buffy, not even she deserved that!”

“But look,” Ethan didn’t know what to say to get himself out of this and save his life, “like I said its not me you should be after it’s the people who paid me!”

“Whatever,” Kennedy was getting bored with her little game; she raised the pistol and pointed it at Ethan’s head; “Ethan Rayne,” Kennedy announced formally, “you have been found guilty of the charges brought against you by this court and you are here-by sentenced to death.”

Kennedy pulled back the pistol’s slide to load the first round as Ethan’s panicking eyes darted this way and that looking for a way out. This was the part she liked, when realisation finally hit her victim. When they at last realised that there was nothing they could do or say to save themselves. This was the part that gave her an almost sexual thrill. Willow was going to be in for a few surprises when they got to bed tonight, perhaps sooner if the opportunity presented itself.

“NO!” Ethan took another step away from his killer, “PLEASE DON’T, I can expla…”

*PHUT!* The gun bucked in Kennedy’s hand as the bullet hit Ethan in the middle of his forehead blowing out the back of his head. After his lifeless body had crumpled to the ground, Kennedy walked up to it and emptied the rest of her magazine into Ethan’s chest, just like she did when she was doing a ‘hit’ for her father. Family honour had been upheld; Kennedy may not like her, but Buffy was the matriarch of the slayer family and any slight to a member of the family had to be avenged.

Satisfied that Ethan was really dead, she pushed him over the edge of the outcrop with her foot and watched as his body plummeted towards the water below. Turning away she heard the loud splash as Ethan’s body hit the water. Yes it would be nice to bring Willow up here, feel her skin against hers under a warm summer sun, but in the mean time she needed to get back to Central and get ready for Buffy’s homecoming party, like she’d told the other girl, it was bound to be a good one.

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Free Buffy Summers Day.**

“Well this is it,” Norma sighed as she and Buffy stood in their cell together for the last time.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied uncomfortably as she stood there in her civilian clothes, “look you can have all my stuff, I won’t need it,” she gestured to the little cupboard where she’d kept her personal things, “There’s still plenty of candy and cosmetics, shampoo and stuff…it’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Norma said quietly; the two women who’d spent so much time together had finally run out of things to say, “Come here.”

Stepping into Norma’s open arms, Buffy hugged her friend for the last time.

“The lengths you’ll go to Summers,” Norma choked back her tears, “just to get a last grope in!”

“Yeah,” Buffy stepped back and smiled as she wiped at her eyes, “never could keep my hands off you.”

“Right then,” Norma coughed into her fist and pulled herself together, “remember what I told you; bide your time, keep your nose clean and…”

“Keep my hand on my hayp-ni?” Buffy smiled.

“Bit late for that, I think,” Norma observed as she held out her hand, “good luck, Buffy Anne Summers.”

“Good luck, Norma May Fletcher,” Buffy shook Norma’s hand and walked out of her cell and never looked back.

0=0=0=0

Standing just inside the main gate, Buffy waited for the screw to unlock, she turned to Helen Mackay and held out her hand.

“No hard feelings, Miss Mackay,” she said.

“Good luck on the outside, Miss Summers,” Mackay shook Buffy’s hand firmly, “I truly hope I never have cause to see you again.”

“Miss Barrowclough,” Buffy turned to the other prison officer.

“You’ll do fine, Buffy,” Barrowclough shook her hand warmly.

“Hope so,” Buffy said to no one in-particular.

The screw had the door open and Buffy could see the coach and all her friends who’d stuck by her through thick and thin; she saw the banner with ‘Welcome Home Buffy’ written on it; she saw Dawn break away from Faith’s side and start to run towards her. Buffy stepped outside the prison walls and looked up at the sun and felt it warm her face. Never again would she take anything or anyone for granted; Buffy started to run towards her sister; free at last!

0=0=0=0


	24. Chapter 24

25.

**Outside the Wall.**

_All alone or in twos  
The ones that really love you  
Walk up and down outside the wall  
Some hand in hand some gathered together in bands  
The bleeding hearts and the artists make their stand  
And when they’ve given you their all  
Some stagger and fall after all y’know it’s not easy.  
Banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall._

Pink Floyd, ‘Outside the Wall’. Highlight and right click on the link.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHnfnZt8KjM

**Buffy’s Chalet, Slayer Central.**

“Dawn cleaned the place up all by herself,” Willow explained; she’d managed to chase everyone away for a while so she could have a few moments alone with Buffy. “I did some shopping for you, there’s milk, coffee, tea, breakfast stuff; and I bought you some new toiletries and cosmetics. There’s enough to keep you going ‘til you have time to go shopping yourself.”

“Thanks Will,” Buffy replied vaguely as she wandered around her little home touching things as if to re-assure herself that it was all real.

“You’ll be alright,” Willow told her, it was more of a statement than a question, “you just need time to…” Willow’s voice faded away as she screwed up her eyes and looked at something just above Buffy’s head.

“What?” Buffy asked when she noticed Willow apparently staring at her hair; Buffy’s hand touched her head, “Yeah I know it’s a mess I really need to go to a hairdressers…hey why don’t we…”

“No it’s not that,” Willow took a step or two towards Buffy and waved her hand above her friend’s head.

“What’s up, Will?” Buffy asked eyeing her friend nervously.

“Have you been having any really vivid dreams lately?” Willow asked.

“Yeah!” Buffy nodded, “I’ve been having these wicked, realistic, erot…” Buffy shut her mouth on the word before it could fully escape, “erm…I thought I was having them because I was in prison.”

“Like slayer dreams?” Willow asked as she slowly walked around Buffy all the time gazing at what was floating invisibly above her friend’s head.

“Way more real than slayer dreams,” Buffy giggled, “I mean it was like I was really there and…” once again Buffy shut-up, there were some things that she wasn’t going to share, not even with Willow.

Thinking back to all Buffy had told her about the demon woman Groutie and the Ghost of Slade Prison, Willow quickly came up with a theory to explain everything.

“I think Groutie was the sort of demon who fed off people’s emotions,” Willow turned and picked up her shoulder bag from where it lay on a chair.

“What’s Groutie got to do with my sex dreams?” Buffy put her hand over her mouth, too late; Willow, however, didn’t seem to have noticed what she’d let slip out.

“I think Groutie could only feed on the emotions in people’s dreams,” Willow explained as she searched in her bag for something, “and you being a slayer and prone to really weird and vivid dreams anyway,” Willow shrugged as she took something from her bag, “you’d be like an ‘all you can eat’ buffet, Buffy.” Willow giggled, “Get it buffet, Buffy or Buffy buffet!”

“Yeah okay,” Buffy hoped Willow would stop making fun of her name sometime soon, “how did she do it and like I feel okay so it couldn’t have worked so good.”

“Ah!” Willow grinned her special ‘aren’t I a clever witch?’ grin, “It wouldn’t, I mean she’d want to keep you healthy to supply her with more dreams…I expect you dreamed about sex all the time because that would be the most intense emotion for you.”

Buffy gave Willow a look that was both shocked and pained at the same time.

“Hey, come on,” Willow shrugged, “fear wouldn’t be any good, you’re the big bad slayer gal, what would you be afraid of?”

“S’pose,” Buffy agreed reluctantly, now Willow would think she was a ‘dream slut’.

“Did she give you anything to drink at any time?” Willow was busily scribbling something on a piece of paper with a coloured pencil.

“She gave me some tea once,” Buffy said uncertainly, “I felt a little weird and emotional afterwards but…”

“That’ll be how she did it,” Willow held out the piece of paper, “hold that in your right fist.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to break the spell,” Willow became ‘serious-witch’ all of a sudden, “now stand on your left leg,” Buffy complied with Willow’s instructions, “and finally, put your left index finger on the end of your nose.”

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Buffy asked as she wobbled slightly on one leg, “If I find you’re having this recorded and its on You Tube tomorrow…”

“Oh stop worrying,” Willow stepped forward and shook what turned out to be salt over Buffy’s head, “there you go!” Willow smiled, “All gone.”

“Sure?”

“Sure,” Willow nodded, “but I’d have an extra long shower if I were you.”

“Will that help get rid of any magical fallout?” Buffy asked.

“No,” Willow shook her head, “you still smell of prison, I mean eww!”

“Just for that,” Buffy laughed and pointed to the door, “you can just get out!” Buffy relaxed a little and looked lovingly at her old friend. “Seriously Willow, thanks, but I’d like to be by myself for awhile…y’know prison, not much in the way of privacy.”

“Not a problem,” Willow walked slowly towards the door, “I thought you might say that so I put a privacy spell on the place. No one will disturb you for an hour or two. You’ll get better eventually, you always do, you’re the slayer…and my friend.”

“Thanks Will.” Buffy watched as Willow shut the door behind her.

Sitting down on one of her chairs, Buffy breathed a deep sigh of relief, all the people around her telling her how happy they were to see her. It was all getting too much for her, she just wanted to be by herself for awhile.

“Darn,” Buffy sat in her chair and rested her cheek on her hand, “no more really vivid sex dreams, eh?” 

She’d have to think of a way round that.

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, later that night.**

Hearing a footfall behind her, Buffy looked over her shoulder and saw Giles standing a couple of yards away.

“How are you feeling?” Giles asked as he crossed the final few feet between them.

“Not so bad,” Buffy smiled sadly into her glass of lemonade, “a little overwhelmed though.”

“Yes I expect you are,” Giles stood next to Buffy and joined her in looking out over the dark, night shrouded North Sea, “but, you’ll soon be your old self again.”

“You think?” Buffy asked before lapsing into silence once more.

The party had been just a little overpowering for her, so many people all wanting to see her and tell her how pleased they were she was back and how they’d never doubted her for a minute. Although she believed her sister and her closest friends, she even believed Kennedy, but she could see the doubt and suspicion that lingered in other people’s eyes.

“Yes I do,” Giles broke the silence, “I keep telling you, Buffy, you’re an extraordinary young woman and I don’t just mean as a slayer.” Giles gazed out across the sea to where the navigation lights of cargo ships twinkled like little red and green stars, “You’re extraordinary in every way. I have every confidence in you. You’ll soon be back to normal and at the helm again.”

“What are you really after, Giles?” Buffy turned to face Giles a crooked smile on her face, she could always tell when Giles wanted her to do something.

“Oh god Buffy,” Giles pleaded, “please come back to work…soon!”

“What’s up?” Buffy’s smile got wider, “I thought Faith was doing a great job…or so Dawn tells me.”

“It’s not that I wish to denigrate what Faith’s been doing,” Giles began hesitantly, “it’s just that…I’ve missed you.” Giles paused for a moment, “I’ve missed the way you know what I’m thinking, I’ve missed seeing you come to work. I’ve missed the way you try to avoid me when I want to show you some new artefact that I’ve acquired. I missed the sound of your voice, the smell of your perfume, even that god awful, so-called music that you listen to!” Giles took a long, deep breath, “There, I’ve said it, now tell me not to be so sentimental.”

“No Giles,” Buffy went over to Giles and slipped her arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, “you’re not being sentimental, and I’ve missed you…like loads.” Buffy stopped to think for a moment, “Y’know we’re like an old married couple, like totally comfortable with each other, but without the sex and everything because, hey, I’m totally gay now…” 

Buffy’s voice faded away to nothing as they stood looking out into the night, each comfortable in the silence of their company.

“So,” Giles broke the silence after a minute or two, “in the spirit of what doesn’t destroy you, makes you stronger; what do you think you’ve learnt from your recent experiences?”

“I can darn socks now,” Buffy observed cheerfully, “before I went inside I never even knew socks could be darned.”

“And?” Giles laughed gently.

“I’m a demon in the kitchen,” Buffy pointed out, “you want five hundred breakfasts cooked or curry…I’m the girl to call.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Giles smiled, “but really what has it taught you?”

“It’s taught me to bide my time,” Buffy remembered the advice Norma had given her so often, “keep my nose clean and not let the bastards grind me down…Oh-and always keep my hand on my hayp-ni!” Buffy paused in thought for a second, “What’s my hayp-ni, Giles?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Giles replied uncomfortably.

“You do,” Buffy accused, “I can always tell when you’re lying to me Giles. Come on Giles tell me, what’s my hayp-ni? I’ve gotta know!”

“Ah, well, yes,” Giles prevaricated slightly embarrassed, “This is really something your mother should have told you.”

“It is!?” Buffy looked up into Giles’ face enjoying seeing him squirm a little.

“But I doubt she knew the phrase, being American,” Giles considered trying to side track Buffy with a lecture on the differences between US and UK English.

“Come on Giles,” Buffy pleaded, “you know what it is, spill!”

“Alright then,” Giles was too embarrassed even to take off his glasses, “it’s an old fashioned term for a girl’s…” Giles whispered in Buffy’s ear.

“Oh-my-god!” Buffy giggled, “Now I know why Norma said it was too late!”

0=0=0=0

**Slade Prison, Norma Fletcher’s Cell, about a week later.**

Walking into Norma’s cell, Miss Mackay paused as she waited for the woman to notice her, slowly Norma let her paper rest on her lap.

“Good evening Miss Mackay,” Norma said, but not with her usual sarcasm, “to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your company?”

“I've noticed a change in your attitude since Summers’ release,” Miss Mackay observed not unkindly.

“I just want out, Miss Mackay,” Norma sighed wearily from where she lay on her bunk, “that's all. Three more years if I keep me nose clean.”

“Not throwing in the towel, are we, Fletcher?” Mackay hoped, the wing wouldn’t be the same with out Fletcher’s own special brand of rebellion, “Or are you acknowledging that the system always wins? 

“Nobody wins, Miss Mackay,” Norma sighed miserably as she sat up and hung her legs over the side of her bunk, “that's what's so tragic.”

“Fletcher the philosopher,” Mackay raised an eyebrow, “Normally,” she continued, “I'd hesitate at putting another newbie in here, but I think the new Fletcher could be just what she needs.” 

”Oh, going to have a bit of company down below, am I?” Norma smiled at her inadvertent lesbian joke.

“Got a young girl called Nicholson,” Mackay explained, “the governor wants to move her into this wing she’s caused too much trouble in ‘C’ wing for her to stay there.”

”She's not a Scot, is she?” Norma asked suspiciously, “I mean, we do have to draw the line somewhere.”

“No,” Mackay chose to ignore the veiled insult, “she's from Sunderland.”

“Dangerously close!” Norma gasped dramatically. 

“Bit of a tearaway,” Mackay explained, “keeps lashing out. You'll keep an eye on her?”

“Difficult not to in a room this size!” Norma pointed out.

“No, I mean,” Mackay gestured vaguely to the cell, “you'll show her what you've learned.”

”All right.” Norma jumped down from her bunk, “But what have I learned, Miss Mackay?”

“That there's no use in bucking the system,” Miss Mackay didn’t really believe what she was saying even as she said it. 

“All right.” Norma looked up into Mackay’s face, “I'll just tell her three things. One...bide your time. Two...keep your nose clean, and three...don't let the bastards grind you down.”

“What about keeping her hand on her hayp-ni?” Mackay asked with a smile.

“It’s probably too late for that, what with ‘er coming from Sunderland an’ all.” Norma smiled.

0=0=0=0

**The Rosenberg-Scarpone Residence, Middlesbrough. The same night.**

“Please, Kennie,” gasped Willow as she started to writhe under Kennedy’s hands and tongue, “please let me sleep! It’s alright for you what with slayer stamina an’all.” Willow sighed with relief as Kennedy stopped what she was doing, “Thanks,” Willow gasped as she lay back on her pillows, exhausted, “I don’t know what’s got into you lately.”

“You saying I can’t show how much I love you?” Kennedy asked as she snuggled up to Willow, “‘Cause if you are I’m going to have to reconsider our relationship…how does no sex at all grab you?”

“Nooo!” Willow wailed with a slightly nervous giggle, no sex? That would be terrible!

Stroking Kennedy’s hair, Willow decided it was time to ask her lover what she’d been thinking about for the last several months now.

“Kennedy?” Willow said slowly, “How do you feel about children?”

“Kids?” Kennedy looked up into Willow’s face, “Don’t think about them much, I mean I helped out at the local Primary school when I was at school, got extra credit for it…they’re alright I guess. I don’t hate them if that’s what you mean.”

“What do you think about us having a baby?” Willow asked slowly.

“You mean adopting?” Kennedy raised her head from where it had rested on Willow’s breast.

“No,” Willow looked down into Kennedy’s eyes, “I mean actually ‘having’ a baby!”

0=0=0=0

**Stockton-on-Tees, several nights later.**

Standing in the shadow of a door way, Buffy had to admit that when she wanted to, Dawn did some damn good work. Months ago when she’d been in prison, she’d asked her sister to keep track of a prison officer called Beal who’d anally raped her using her truncheon. Of course Buffy hadn’t mentioned this, but Dawn had diligently tracked the woman down after she’d been forced to resign from the prison service by Miss Mackay. Having tracked Beal to Stockton-on-Tees, Dawn had found out that she’d got herself a job in a hostel for runaway girls. From the evidence that Dawn had managed to collect, Beal had soon gone back to her abusing, molesting ways.

Hearing footsteps approaching along the rain slick street, Buffy watched from her hiding place as Beal walked home on the other side of the road. Stepping out into the night, Buffy started to follow the woman. If, Beal took her usual route home she’d turn off the road and into an ill lit passageway between two building, that’s where Buffy had decided she’d strike. Sure enough, Beal turned into the alley and walked briskly towards the other end, she turned as someone kicked an old tin can behind her.

“Hello Miss Beal,” Buffy walked slowly into the light of the only street lamp at her end of the alley, “remember me? Buffy Summers, remember I once told you that one dark night you’d turn around and find me standing there?”

“Summers?” Beal had stopped and turned to face Buffy, “I heard they’d let you out.”

Buffy had to admit the woman was brave, she showed not a trace of fear, not all bullies were cowards.

“How did you swing that, eh?” Beal wanted to know, “Fuck the governor or something?”

Brave but still a total bitch, Buffy sighed to herself; she glanced behind Beal to check that everything was in place.

“I also promised myself,” Buffy said keeping Beal’s attention on her, “that I’d feed you to a vampire…Maggie.”

Standing behind Beal, Maggie let go of the vampire’s arms and let it sink its teeth into Beal’s neck. The vampire drank thirstily as it drained Beal letting her body fall to the floor completely bled dry.

“Okay slayer,” the vampire wiped blood from around its mouth, “I’ve done what you wanted, now you’re going to let me go right?”

“I suppose so,” Buffy nudged Beal’s body with the toe of her boot, the woman was really dead, “I won’t have it said that Buffy Summers reneges on her deals, you can go.”

The vampire turned to go, but was halted by the sound of Buffy’s voice.

“Of course,” Buffy continued nonchalantly, “Maggie didn’t make any deal.”

Striking out, Maggie rammed her stake into the vamp's heart, she stood back and watched as it turned to dust and mud in the damp air.

“You’ve turned into a hard woman, Buffy Summers,” Maggie observed.

“Whatever,” Buffy shrugged as she looked down a Beal’s body, “prison changes you.” 

Dismissing the body from her mind, Buffy looked up and around before smiling at Maggie.

“Hey,” Buffy stepped over Beal’s still form and linked her arm through Maggie’s, “I saw a pub down here,” she pointed to the far end of the alley, “come on I’ll buy you a drink.”

0=0=0=0

**Slayer Central, Buffy’s Chalet the following morning.**

Buffy’s hand shot out from under her duvet and silenced the alarm clock before it had a chance to wake Maggie who was still asleep beside her. Carefully, so as not to disturb the sleeping woman, Buffy pushed back the duvet and swung her legs out of bed and put her feet on the floor. For a moment she wriggled her toes as they rested on her bedside rug. Climbing to her feet she padded across her bedroom and into the bathroom. Within minutes she’d peed, washed and brushed her teeth. Coming silently back into her bedroom she dressed quickly before heading for the door.

Not bothering to stop for coffee in her own little kitchenette, Buffy went straight for the front door, opening it she stepped out into the sunshine of a bright, spring, morning. Closing her eyes she lifted her face to the sun and felt it warm her skin. Taking in a great lungful of fresh seaside air she opened her eyes and smiled. No time to waste, she told herself as she headed off towards the kitchens, she had five hundred breakfasts to cook.

THE END.


End file.
